


in the moment we're ten feet tall

by cheshirebottom



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Fallen Angels, M/M, Not a crack fic, Veterinarian!Louis, Veterinary Clinic, angel!Harry, harry can understand and SPEAK various languages, harry can understand even animal language lol, louis is flat mates with cara and ashton, louis is the only person who can see harry the angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-19 19:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 54,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17607599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirebottom/pseuds/cheshirebottom
Summary: "Good morning!" Brightly greets someone standing from behind him.Louis jumps as he clutches at his chest in total fright. "Holy fuck!" He gasps."Oh, you swear," Harry muses, mouth agape and emerald eyes wide, seemingly finding this catch up amusing. Then again that only lasts a second, because from amused, he quickly switches to being unsure. "But is it right, though?" He quizzes. "Is that how you greet mortals here on earth? A big bright good morning?"//or the one where harry is a not-so-mortal who just happened to wake up in the world of humans, willing to find answers as to why that is, and louis is the one and only oh-so-mortal that can see him. they don't get along at first, but just like how life goes, they learn to be fond of each other soon enough. god has always had a plan for them.warning:not your typical crack fic, because this isn't a crack fic to begin with.





	1. 0.0 - "The first day the immortal walked the land of mortals"

**Author's Note:**

> © 2013 by Lou Grant
> 
> ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
> 
> **_everything is mine. has been mine since 2013. do not steal._ **
> 
> **_purely fictional. read at your own risk._ **

**__ **

**_0.0 || "Who are you?" The mortal asked._ **

**_***_ **  
**_***_ **

It's supposed to be lambent and lucent, calm and serene--placid at most--when Harry wakes up.

 _Wakes up,_  Harry deems, why did he even wake up?

The likes of them don't sleep, never zone out, so how come he himself just did? This isn't such a normal thing to happen; this wasn't supposed to happen, in fact. Harry doesn't know if someone like him should be merry about this, not having seen the usual surroundings he's grown accustomed to. He's got a feeling that something might've gone wrong, because this isn't...this isn't the norm he's always followed.

Harry opts for investigation.

For now, though, Harry closes his eyes and inhales, taking in some scent he doesn't quite tell what is, feeling everything that orbits around him. He brushes off the oddness beforehand.

Slowly opening his eyes that aren't as golden as they feel on him, aren't as shiny and bright, Harry looks around him and returns back to the fact that he did not wake up in such a surrounding where he's always been a part of, a surrounding where it's not this noisy, a place that is never crowded like this, or even alive, and a certain surrounding where it's purely peaceful and endless.

So, Harry's just woken up then--the thought is still strange in so many aspects--in the very opposite of either what he is expecting or where he is supposed to be. Well, this is entirely new for him.

" _Aš ką tik prabudau_  (I just woke up)," Harry mutters under his breath, in utter amusement quite so, as he takes in the sight of what he suspects are mortals, group of flesh carved up running or walking around the place he hasn't been in, at all, throughout his existence.

He can see various vehicles passing by in quite a fast pace on some unfamiliar road, some animals he can rather extinguish what are called, and tall buildings creating skyscrapers, cascading shadows all over the shaded areas of someplace Harry isn't sure he knows what is called.

Apparently, he didn't listen when Saint Gabriel tackled countries, cities, streets, and towns all over the land of mortals in one of his classes, didn't try to pay attention, so he supposes this is what he gets.

Basing from Harry's wild understandings and leisure observations, however, there are tiny trees everywhere (are they herbs? Shrubs?), just the same with the place where he was molded and originally lives--or  _lived_ , Harry doesn't know anymore at this point, hence he's deciding for thorough inspections. Whether he has to get out of here or he has to stay, Harry hasn't an iota, so he knows he has priorities upon getting rid of his thoughts.

Looking up above, Harry sees there are flying creatures all going in the exact same pathway, those that create some chirping sound, those that have wings like his but are smaller. Harry familiarizes with their innocent sound; he can understand them, can establish what they say, and he knows he is blessed.

" _Paukščiai_  (Birds)," Harry breathes out, still gazing up in the gray skies, knows to himself that that's what those creatures are called by humans.

He completely remembers having held one before, back when Saint Lucas handed him a little red--like apples in summertime--with blue--like the ever mystic, seemingly endless ocean--and green--like the people's land--streaks aligned amongst the other feathers, reflecting against each other's; a robin. It had happened in their labyrinth that one languid memoir, the memory still fresh in Harry's clear visioning. How Harry misses that moment.

Up above, Harry admires the lonely dull sky, mentally counting all the birds that bypass the unfamiliar city from below, every single one of them chirping some sort of melody that Harry knows he's the only one can understand compare to all the living things that are milling around and about, and are all but anxious around him.

That's just the way it is. Has been for so many years, and decades, and centuries, and eras.  _He_ made that possible.

As Harry returns his immersion back to the spot he is currently standing barefooted at,  _that he is supposed to be floating at_ , he realizes how these mortals are just walking behind him, navigating their ways through him, and are not even giving a glance or two in his direction.

_They don't see me_ , he tells himself. Right, of course. So what really does Harry have--need--to do in here anyway? What do they want him to accomplish in this place? Down here in the land of humans? He never once went down here from up there, they've never let him even if he asked, so why now?

Can it be that he now belongs to the Fallen tribe? Unbelievable.

Harry shakes his head, feeling baffled in spite of himself. Glancing sideways, Harry notices a small beige-colored building that has an electric banner of square and cross with white and green lighting in the middle.  _A hospital, is it?_ Harry marvels on.

He dwells on with the probable fact that, is it rather small for a hospital, or is it, hospitals are really just that small? It's the smallest one from the rest of them all buildings, is the thing. Hospitals should be massive, innit? Or maybe no... or yes, Harry is completely clueless.

Harry has so many questions in his mind right now, circulating and toggling non-stop--some that need answers, some that can wait--but for now he decides he wants some exploration since he's already here.

So Harry walks toward the hospital (or so he thinks it's what it's called, but that's a good start, he supposes), looks around the empty place once he's in, and finds himself entering a door, his bare feet padding across the cold tiled floor. Inside the room itself, Harry doesn't see anyone but a bunch of animals locked away inside some cages, barking, grunting, slurring, and until Harry can finally make out of what they have been throwing out there.

" _I'm hungry, so, so hungry_ ," says one dog in between spits, its pink, wet tongue sticking out.

" _Me too, me too_ ," answers the other one, a bit smaller one at that, as it drools all over the place, " _I wonder where is our master. Do you know?_ "

" _I_   _bet he's late again_ ," another dog pipes up, stealing the other two's attentions by clawing outward its big cage, creating some jolting noise against steel, " _but he's our master, so it's alright, right dogs?"_

One dog slurps, bobbing its head up and down in agreement. " _Yes, yes, yes_!" It pants.

Harry watches them in full interest, his mouth spreading slowly with a wicked smile, as he walks in the middle, grazing his long and pale fingertips against each cage rail. He knows just how he can understand every sort of languages, even animal or insect language, but he's never actually thought it will be this fun.

Harry's never encountered one in an approximation of a light-year now, see, so this is making him smile despite he doesn't do emotions. What could possibly be Harry's mission on earth?

Too many questions, too many possibilities, too many conclusions, and unanswered thoughts. Harry must ask sooner rather than later, or perhaps analyze further...

Just then, when the moment passes, one dog pounces on Harry and steals his attention, the animal barking out proudly, " _I see a mythical fallen angel!"_

Harry tilts his head to the side as he stares intensely at the dog, thrilled upon discovering it sees him, enchanted upon knowing about the fact that it even knows what he is. It's smiling sublimely at him, the brims of its mouth wet with slimy drools and its tongue splayed out, and its jaw almost slacked on an enormous span. " _You can see me?_ " Harry muses with his very own telepathic bark, raising an eyebrow at the pug.

The pug bobs its head up and down, pretty much spontaneous, and obnoxious, and proud of its individual ability since it's the only one that can really see Harry. " _Oh, yeah, yeah, I can!_ " It barks.

" _And why is that?_ " Harry asks dubiously, murmuring and moving forward so he can touch the pug's cage, bring lighting with the convenience of his hovering golden aura, so he can as well see the animal much clearer. " _Is it because I am meant to deduce you?_ " He allows himself to ask.

The pug rolls over, serving the gesture as its only fun, and stares up at Harry with a pair of glassy, wide and teary eyes, still looking all happy and innocent. " _I don't know. I just don't know_ ," it answers finally with a gargle and a laugh.  _Dogs really are slickers, aren't they?,_  Harry laments in his mind.

" _We'll see then, pug_ ," Harry concedes in a low howl, nodding stiffly. He really doesn't know why he's here, isn't sure if he should be fine with it either, but then a dog has seen him, knows he's an immortal too, and well, yet he still doesn't feel so much as bad about it even if he knows he should be worried instead. No one should see him, no one is ever meant to see him, so how come this dog can, really?

Everything is coming off cryptic in Harry's part, it seems, and--and instead of be terrified, the thought excites him to no end. Maybe... maybe Harry can look around some more before he can contact someone back home--or before Michael or Niall comes down to fetch him and bring him back up all the way.

Yes, brilliant. Harry smiles, triumphant with an unfamiliar giddiness that's curling up in his stomach at the thought, relenting all the way through him.  _Even that has elicited_ , he conceives,  _despite he isn't supposed to feel_. How odd.

As Harry starts to look around some more and tests if there are more of these mortals that can see him, he suddenly senses someone coming; a human. Harry within a flash decides for checking this intruder out and see if the dogs will be fine if this mortal ever barges in.

Outside the dogs' demesne, Harry takes a peek behind the cabinet before him and sees a person by the door he's entered just earlier; specifically so, it's a man in some color turquoise scrubs, wearing some black-framed glasses that's perched over their nose, and has what looks to be stethoscope dangling around their neck.

Their hair seems soft and is feathery brown (almost blonde) and they are possibly in a poor height around 5'8" to 5'9" only. Harry can already tell they're a veterinarian even from right where they stall, and he knows for a fact that the dogs will be just fine even if this intruder--or not, now that Harry knows--has barged inside this sanctuary, that Harry also knows now is not an actual hospital but is rather a veterinary clinic.

Well, that's astonishingly impeccable, this immaculate stranger having considered and found, all for Harry's opinion all at once, at least. Should he go near him? Harry feels the need to be cautious, for some reason.

As the vet strides forward, Harry watches as they drop what seems to be a bundle of keys in a straying bowl over some desk and toe off their worn-out shoes right after just to replace them with a pair of new ones, those being rather squeaky and pastiche. Harry supposes it's what the likes of them wear during a shift. Neat.

"You can never say never, while we don't know when, but time and time again, younger now than we were before," the vet belts out, shuffling around the place effortlessly, memorized the area itself.

"Singing," Harry mumbles under his breath, listening to the soft and husky voice of this veterinarian, feeling the corners of his lips twitch, becoming responsive to it, oddly.

And, suddenly, Harry finds himself backing away slowly; slowly and surely now, just as the vet's come closer to where he is hiding from behind a cabinet. And before he knows it, some wall divider behind him is already keeping him in place, making him slide his back against it until he's seated on the ground, and. What's happening? Why is he feeling? He  _doesn't_ feel. This is so terribly, horrifyingly wrong.

Harry doesn't know what to do next, fidgeting idly, is actually forgetting about the fact that no one can see him except for one at the moment which was the dog from earlier.

Harry isn't collected when he should be, that he realizes tragically, but then again, it might be too late for that one now since he's already acted as though some human will see him.  _Absurdity_ , Harry thinks to himself, calls himself, tells himself.

Realizing his fault, Harry is just about standing up so he can continue gazing at the vet and linger on with the fact that this vet  _won't be able to see him after all_ , when eventually, right there and then, the vet catches him and questions in quite a shocked facial expression while staring down at him shockingly, "Who the f-- who are you?"

Harry can only blink in confusion, because  _how_.


	2. 0.1 - "The immortal meets the mortal"

**__ **

**_0.1 || "Are you a homeless man?" He asked._ **

**_***_ **   
**_***_ **

For the first time in millennium, Harry feels his throat dry remorsefully as he gazes up at the vet, all wide-eyed and stunned, isn't able to neither move nor regain his usually composed cherubic body. " _Bы можете меня видеть?_  (You can see me?)" Harry asks in wonderment, lips parted, as he shakes his head almost instantly, realizing he's just spoken in Russian despite the fact it's clear as day that this man before him is a Northern Englishman. Harry purses his lips and waits for whatever is going to happen next.

"Sorry, what? I didn't quite catch that," the vet says in confusion, scratching at the back of his neck, is now crouching down to level with Harry on the ground. Harry isn't capable of doing anything as of yet as he gapes at this mortal before him, this incredibly close and alive and breathing, and can-see-him-human before him, this person whose naked eyes can process him, this hot-blooded human who even is talking to him.

This one who is in front of him.

Harry, for once in his entire entity, isn't competent of speaking, feeling as though he's just witnessed the morning sky and the starry night sky collide.

After quite some time, with Harry still neither talking nor blinking, the vet sighs and says, "By chance, are you another one of those homeless men again? I — I thought I told you people not to come here anymore? This isn't a place for homeless people."

With a few more baffling stares, Harry finally retaliates by nodding and blinking. "I — no, no," he says hurriedly yet calmly, voice deep and dragged, "I'm not a... not a homeless man."

The veterinarian tilts his head to the side having heard that response, bamboozled reaction eliciting creased eyebrows across his forehead. "Oh, sorry. I thought..." He trails off, and then continues with a different question, demanding, "Who are you then? What are you doing here? How did you even get in?"

Harry's mind is in frenzy. How does he work this one out? Harry is not allowed to lie, that he knows perfectly.

Harry might just need some holy help from  _up above_.


	3. 0.2 - "The conversation between worlds"

**__ **

**_0.2 || "What's your name then?" asked the mortal._ **

**_***_ **  
**_***_ **

"Who are you then? What are you doing here? How did you even get in?"

_Why is he here? Think, Harry, think!_

"Uh... I don't... I don't really know, I... I thought this was the hospital?" Harry asks it more than he says it as he swallows hard, sounding very unsure and uncomfortable with the intense gaze the...the utterly attractive mortal is giving him.

Huh. Attractive. Harry's never had a keen for mortals—never because this is his first time to ever speak with one; to ever come face to face with one; and to ever feel one—but this one sure is fascinating Harry so much he can't help but lie despite lying is strictly forbidden, most especially  _up there._

Harry slowly blinks at the veterinarian as he gazes intensely at him. Surprisingly enough, the vet is also doing the same to him, and now they're both looking like endangered species staring in amusement or rather in enchantment at one another.

_Hmm. The veterinarian is a man—a male—Harry is aware, and so maybe he is attracted to him?_

Alertness fills all over Harry's gut all the sudden and he panics slightly. He looks down on his body and he sees that he's wearing his usual skins, a suit and a tie and his usual barefooted posture. Well, Harry wonders if he's a female at heart down here, wonders if that's the real reason why he's getting enamored upon this male veterinarian.

"Anyway," says the vet after a long silence and after all the staring, "What's your name then? And do you happen to have an appointment in the hospital?" The vet looks him up and down, seems like inspecting him or something. "Well, I can't see any wound in you. Not so far, at least. Uhm, do you... do you mind if I check though? Just to make sure, mate. You don't seem yourself, no offense."

Harry doesn't say anything, but with the bob of his Adam's apple, the vet takes that as a silent yes from him, so the vet reaches out to touch him. Harry sucks in a deep breath without actually realizing it and before he knows it, the vet is already checking if he has wounds, injuries or just, anything.

The veterinarian's hands are small, soft even, and his fingertips aren't calloused against Harry's immortal skin. In this moment, they both share the same air and it makes Harry feel something that's churning in his stomach, although he doesn't know what is. Looking at each other in silence—in a tame and sweet silence—while the vet inspects his angelic glowing skin, Harry stumbles with his words without having to stop himself. "You can actually  _see_  and  _touch_  me?"

The vet freezes at hearing that and he looks at Harry straight in the eye, no words slipping out his mouth just yet. Retrieving his hands away from Harry's arms, the vet cocks an eyebrow at him and then says simply, "Of course, why would not I?" When Harry doesn't respond, the veterinarian proceeds, "Are you sure you're not a homeless man? Well, I don't think you are, what with the whole pretty face, vanilla skin and all, but. You sure you're not a crazed man or perhaps a drunkard?"

_Pretty face. Harry is a woman at heart here on land of mortals then? Is that it?_

Harry doesn't say anything again, neglecting all his questions. The vet sighs. Minutely so, however, Harry asks, "What are you called then?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I mean, your...name," Harry corrects himself, squinting.

The vet laughs. He laughs, his head bending a little and the sides of his eyes crinkling with his face and lips contorted in a wide smile.

And  _oh_ , Harry thinks,  _wow_.

"You're such a silly man, aren't you? Didn't I ask you that first?" The vet says, shaking his head as he laughs. "Well?  _You_  first then. What's your name?"

"Uhm." Harry isn't sure if he's allowed to say it. But then looking at this vet in front of him, Harry finds himself caving in. So, "Harry," he finally utters out, his voice low, the words slipping out slow, "I'm Harry."

The vet is looking at him, rosy lips parted and eyes a shocking blue—they're bluer than the clouds, Harry acknowledges, they're also bluer than the deepest oceans Harry knows of, and for the most part they're like the color of the hottest flame of them all, even hotter than the reddest one itself—and Harry, he thinks he might just flap his wings for him right here and now.

Harry wants to know his name, wants to know more about him, wants to learn things this mortal knows that he doesn't, and just,  _he wants to listen to him laugh everyday_  or just whenever he can—and Harry doesn't even know why he wants those things from this stranger, but still,  _he does_.

"Well, it's really nice to meet you, Harry," the vet finally says, smiling brightly at him, his cheerful smile as bright as the sun in a lazy afternoon. "I'm Doctor Louis Tomlinson, but you can just call me Louis." Louis offers a hand for him to shake and Harry just stares at it, not sure what he should do about it, hasn't an iota as to how do people normally interact.

Having the thought of Harry isn't a fan of shaking hands in first introductions, perhaps, Louis pulls his hand away and just proceeds with the questions that are currently bubbling up his mind. "So, where do you live, mate? Uhm, do you need anything I can help you with? Also, how did you really get inside? I mean, I don't remember ever keeping the doors open."

Harry blinks softly, still staring at Louis, still fascinated about this whole thing. Just then, he speaks, "I don't know if I should tell you where I live...uh, Louis."

 _Louis_. Harry says it for the first time and it sounds so fresh, so new and so unique in the way it lingers in his mouth.  _Louis._

Louis purses his lips as he nods his head slowly, sinking in the fact that this boy before him must be lost or something—or maybe he has some problem he is facing and that's why he got here in the first place.

Louis thinks that maybe this boy was drunk that he just found himself in this place when he woke up in the morning, because heck, Louis is a hundred percent sure he didn't forget to lock the clinic last night... or so he thought.

Ugh, Louis is definitely getting too old for this, he just knows. And it sucks if he's being honest.

It sucks  _tons._


	4. 0.3 - "The immortal spoke to the dog and spooked the mortal"

**__ **

**_0.3 || "Where did he go?" Louis stressed._ **

**_***_ **   
**_***_ **

So this Harry dude just said he  _doesn't think he should tell Louis where he lives._ And why is that? Louis hasn't a clue; all he knows is Harry's one strange...stranger.

Louis purses his lips as he nods his head slowly at what he said, sinking in the fact that this boy before him must be lost or something - or perhaps he has some sort of problem he is facing and that's why he's gotten himself in here in the first place.

Louis thinks that maybe this boy was drunk that he's just found himself in this place when he woke up in the morning, because heck, Louis is hundred percent sure he didn't forget to lock up the clinic last night. Or so he thinks. Louis is getting old for this, he just knows. And it sucks if he's being honest.

"Well, you're going to have to leave soon, Harry. Clients are bound to be here in a second, so," Louis informs him gently, trailing off to see some sort of reaction Harry might give. Harry doesn't pull any sort of reactions, though. Damn, he's still staring actually, just that, and  _okay_ , Louis thinks worriedly, he's wearing a weird yet gorgeous (really, though, he is) poker face. There must be something wrong with this bloke. Swallowing, Louis adjusts his glasses that's a second away into slipping from his nose as he stands up, finally. "So, um."

Harry, without a word, stands up as well, gaze still locked on Louis, making Louis feel rather uncomfortable and scandalously watched - it's just that Harry's gaze is so intense, so pure, and entirely deviant that Louis can feel his breath practically hitching against his throat. It's a kind of stare that Louis hasn't felt yet given to him all his life, is the thing, something that not even that one bloke he's given all his heart years ago has managed, and really,  _who is this guy?_ Louis doesn't know whether he should be afraid now at this point, be crept out or think of being guarded just because this kid acts quite strange, but.

But he is young-looking, Louis notes, is pink cheeked, is doe-eyed, and... yeah, he's such an attractive stranger. Then again, he is barefooted, weirdly so, and boy is he tall and built enough to strangle Louis if he ever tries to do something nasty or mental. Maybe Louis should do something about it, about all this.

Louis opens his mouth to speak. "I think, mister, you should leave-"

Harry speaks as well at the same time, though. "Can I stay for a while?"

And Louis blinks, momentarily at loss for words.

"Please?" Harry presses and pleads, looking so painfully innocent and harmless out of the sudden in front of Louis, doing odd things to the hopeless human. His right arm is bent and his delicately long and slim fingertips on his right hand are scratching lightly on his left arm, hair a delicious mess of chocolaty curls and skin impossibly looking milky, soft and youthful - and Louis, he doesn't want to think it, but he must be slowly caving in despite this first ever encounter. Maybe Harry has some sort of persuading power or whatever. Insanity. Definitely.

Heaving sigh, Louis ends up giving in. So he nods. "Alright. Alright you may stay." A smile slowly spreads across Harry's red plump lips at that, just a very, very bit of a quirk on the corner of his mouth forming, one that could or could not be counted as a smile, yet one that still seems already well enough to have Louis feeling high.

And,  ** _seriously, what's happening to me?_** Louis curses in his mind; a curse that Harry can clearly read right from where he is, something he's heard just as clearly. He doesn't know what that is supposed to mean, but Harry sure is entertained having the capability to read a person's mind, because frankly, he begs to know a lot of things about Louis.

After quite some time of idling, Louis retaliates eventually as he realizes that the time is actually running and is unfortunately so, wasting, that he has responsibilities in hand, and that he's in custody of taking care of certain patients. And so he decides that Harry can just probably lounge around his place and stay for a while, while he works on feeding the dogs and the few cats he has in the inner room, make sure they're well-fed and alright.

And Louis does it so, excusing himself. Harry just minds his own business by the front of the shop, silently, just acutely looking around.

By the time the clock strikes 10, Louis opens the clinic. Louis watches as Harry sits on one of the chairs behind his desk, just behaving... like  _literally_  behaving. Louis just keeps an eye on him.

As Louis serves his fifth customer of the day, Harry doesn't intervene at all; no words, no questions, no nothing. Louis thinks he must be bored by now, just sitting on the same spot for almost 2 long hours now. Louis waits up for him to do something - anything - but nothing happens.

Just as the owner of the sick Beagle goes out for a bit of a smoke, Louis finally looks at Harry and asks once and for all, "Aren't you getting bored just sitting there and watching me work? Don't you want to watch telly or something? The remote is just under the coffee table."

Looking at him, Harry blinks. "Telly?" he asks innocently, "What is a telly?"

Louis' gaze narrows. "Television, Harry," he says calmly. He looks at Harry and waits for a response. Harry doesn't move, though, minutes later, doesn't even blink having heard such odd thing to count as a big revelation, leaving Louis no other choice but to talk in a way as if Harry's dumb. "You genuinely don't know what a telly is?" he asks dubiously.

But then Harry only tilts his head to the side, doesn't say anything at all, still looking genuinely clueless as it is.

The Beagle lying on Louis' working desk squirms and wriggles, distracting him a little, although half of his attention is still directed towards Harry, his gaze still narrowed. "Aren't you a British lad?" he asks, confusion etched on his voice.

Harry shakes his head quite stiffly, not entirely sure what he should say. Should he opt for telling the truth? Perhaps. "I am not a mortal, Louis - I'm not like you or the rest of your kinds."

Louis chokes on his spit, slightly loosening his grip on the dog he's pressing down. A part of him wants to laugh, wants to pull at his air, but seeing the way Harry's deliberated those words, Louis thinks he's seemed very true and genuine about it - that he was quite convincing too, if Louis' honest. Regardless, though, since Louis isn't yet  _that_  insane, he deadpans Harry, "What are you on about now, you curly man? Honestly, are you sure you're not on drugs? Should I be worried?"

Louis is joking, trying to be funny, but Harry doesn't seem to buy it lest he doesn't even blink. Louis grimaces at his lameness.

"Angels don't drink medication, Louis. We simply don't. We needn't such," Harry steadily says, sounding so impossibly serious, looking so scarily calm.

The Beagle continues to squirm underneath Louis' grip as he busies himself upon openly gaping at Harry, completely baffled and bewildered; Harry on the other hand, though, is watching the poor neglected animal that is continuously complaining, saying, " _Let me go, Doc, I'm fine, I'm fine, I just needed a bone! Karin! I need my master, Karin! Where is she?"_

Reaching a bit forward and ignoring Louis' pointed look towards him, Harry holds Louis' hand that's holding the dog down to have him letting go of it.

Louis gasps lightly at the unexpected skin-contact and he slowly lets go, letting Harry take over. The dog looks around to search for whoever it may have to look at in pure adoration and gratefulness, sticking its tongue out as a sign that it loves whoever's unleashed him from Louis' soft yet heavy grip. "There, you're fine," Harry tells the dog reassuringly, despite he knows it can't see him nor feel him, "Now you can quiet down with your protests."

" _Thank goodness! I wonder - I wonder whom should I thank?_ " The dog barks happily. Glancing at Louis with its tongue still dangling against its slicked chin, it barks some more, " _Is it you Doc? Finally figured out I have no bug? Hah. Anyway, where's my master?_ "

Louis furrows his brows together at this, because fuck. Did Harry just speak to the dog? That's impossible. And well, well, look at that, his patient is fine after all. Its tail is waggling actively, its tongue all but flushed pink and no longer dry and pale, and its ears simply aren't draped limply; a few symptoms of it being perfectly fine. "How did you do that?" Louis asks Harry incredulously.

Harry shrugs nonchalantly as though it's nothing big a deal. "I didn't do anything, Louis. It's just that Billy was complaining that he's fine, no bugs and just needed bone to survive... from, uh, Karin it said."

Just as Louis' about to question whatever Harry is talking about - like,  _who the hell is Billy_ \- the owner of the Beagle comes back and she beams at Louis. "So how's my Billy? By chance, is he ill?" The girl, Karin, asks with a pout, leaning over the desk to speculate. "Because I swear he was just whining strangely this morning."

"Billy?" Louis asks as he blinks, his voice almost coming off as a squeak, in which he mentally grimaces at by the ridiculous sound of it. Louis is never left dumbfounded, is the thing, especially when he's in his personal lair that is this vet clinic where he is supposedly the ruler -the  _law_  - so it most definitely bugs him.

But then Harry; he's making Louis at loss for intelligence and equal composure. Curse him, really.  ** _Curse this strange, strange, barefooted milky kid in a tux. Why is he even wearing a suit and a tie?_**

Harry looks down at his clothing in a rush, pursing his lips, fixating his gaze on the silky material grazed along the collars of his coat. He questions himself after recoiling, mumbling, "What's wrong with what I am wearing?" Louis doesn't hear him, but that isn't a problem nonetheless.

Karin is still focusing on Billy as she reaches out to touch him. "Yeah, Billy," she says affirmatively, "my Beagle's name. 'S what my boyfriend named him, actually. Fancy it?" She asks giddily, and then proudly adds, "Well, I do!"

Louis forces a laugh and a sheepish grin her way, to somehow show to the girl that he finds her excitement a bit entertaining at least. The girl, Karin, leans over again, and this time Billy lunges on her right away, automatically licking on her cheek and making her break into a fit of genuine giggles. She thanks Louis and pays him then afterwards, with Louis nodding at her in thanks as well, saying matter-of-factly, "Don't mention it, Karin. I wasn't the one who healed Billy anyway - it was  _him_." Louis points at the chair where Harry is supposed to be, since he's no longer upfront with them.

But then -

Karin glances at it. "You have company? I didn't see anyone else other than you when I walked in. Where is he then, so I can thank him?"

Louis blinks rapidly as he sucks in an enormously deep breath, chokes on it slightly as he feels his throat dry, trying to make out of the chair with his glasses unsecured in his eyes, which now is shockingly and coldly vacant, like no one has even seated there in the first place. "Where is he?" Louis shakily breathes out; his heartbeats are suddenly frantically pounding against his chest, the curve of his lips twitching in utter confusion as he's downright birdbrained, his palms sweating uncontrollably.

While Louis still tries to insinuate as to why, how, when, where, so on and so forth did Harry go as he locks his gaze on the spot where Harry was seated not too long ago now, Karin is talking in the background. "I didn't really see anyone when I walked in earlier, Doc Tomlinson, maybe it's just your imagination." She chuckles sheepishly when Louis angles his head and looks at her. "Oh, no, I mean... I don't know. I just really didn't see anyone besides you in the room earlier, is all."

And fuck.  _Fuck_.

Louis nods absently, feeling weak all the sudden for furthermore emotions. By the time Karin leaves with Billy, Louis is rather weak on the knees - after he's searched the entire place of a missing Harry, that is - as he sits on the chair next to where Harry had been sitting for a full 2 hours starting this morning.

And  _yes_ , Louis thinks begrudgingly to himself,  _Harry is fucking real, and he was just here!_

He talked to Louis, Louis touched him for inspection, even had an eye to eye contact with him one too many times, so really, how come Louis doubts himself now? Louis wasn't dreaming when he and Harry met just now, when he and Harry were talking just now, and when he's accused him of using drugs.

Harry was here. He was.

 _Not a mortal, Angels_ , Harry's said, portrayed his self as.

"Could it be..."

 _No_ , Louis petulantly thinks,  _that's just absurd. That can't be._

Cautiously, Louis reaches out and touches the platform of the chair, that exact spot Harry's seated at, that exact spot where he's been to. Having placed his hand flatly over it, Louis gasps as he retrieves his hand, eyes wide and breathing ragged.

Apparently, the seat where Harry's used to sit on is still warm against Louis' palm, indicating the lad's earlier presence, the stranger's clear evident of being real.


	5. 0.4 - "The mortals under one shade"

**__ **

**_0.4 || "Who can fucking speak to animals?" She humored._ **

**_***_ **   
**_***_ **

A week and a half have already passed after that first encounter with Harry back in the clinic, and yet Louis is still beyond bothered about the whole thing.

The experience of having a strange and intimate conversation with an utterly gorgeous yet looking lost stranger and just having to lose him within a matter of 3 hours right after those times, peculiarly so, is something that one Louis Tomlinson can't just let go of.

It's baffling, see, startling even for Louis' case, because no, you can't just meet someone inside your very own shop and be alarmed, be charmed and then the next thing you know, they're gone — just like that — without hearing any sort of goodbye from them, a tap in the shoulder and then a smile of  _see you later_ and or just simply the sound of the clinic's sliding door being slammed shut.

True, Louis can't just blame Harry too, like if he wished to leave without saying goodbye, so be it, but the fact that Louis didn't see him walk by and leave the shop using the  _only way out of it_ , which is in front of Louis and will always, always be seen by Louis for he's upfront, well, that's really something to be bothered about.

Now, Louis wants to know how did that happen — how did even, really? Louis wants to investigate much further (despite the oldness of the issue) and prove himself that he wasn't dreaming at those times, that he really met Harry, that he isn't yet insane and that Harry is fucking real — and not just a figment of his imagination.

Louis has been single for almost a year now, is the thing, and it's because of too much focusing on his job, his clinic and his monthly bills, as well as for his own savings for the house he's been planning on to buy for his own. Regarding this matter, Louis thinks he must be imagining fictional characters (i.e. Harry) in his head now just to feed his sexual frustrations, which is just absurd, yes, he'll give you that, and also, his loneliness or so-called solitariness.

Louis doesn't want to think it through, but it's eating and gnawing at him, just the idea itself, and so he can't just brush it off, not when he's already getting bugged, when he's getting poked repeatedly; he needs to do something about it.

At around half past 6 in the morning, Louis automatically pushes himself off bed, despite a heavy hangover clawing at his head, and lets his feet land on the cold tiled floor.

He yawns and stretches freely, almost knocking his glasses off the nightstand as he does just that, realizing it seconds later. Redeeming both his hands back to his sides and standing up from bed, Louis pads toward the loo and washes his face off of sleep and rinses his mouth with water from the faucet to morass away the staleness.

When Louis' done, he picks up his glasses and wears them, goes out of his room, and travels his way to the kitchen while passing by some certain rooms. He doesn't bother waking his flat mates up, who will be needing it as of the moment, as he settles to make tea for all of them (they can drink their tea if they finally realized that they have jobs to attend to, Louis decides). He knows they all have early appointments altogether on their owns, but well, they should've known better not to forcefully drag Louis along with them just to drink themselves to death, Louis being one of those victims; Louis is just avenging himself, so good riddance to them.

Just as Louis' about half finishing his tea, he hears footsteps emerging from one of the only three bedrooms they have in their shared flat and low grumbles of one Cara Delevingne — his best friend, past block mate and former suitor (yes, suitor) — and at this moment, Louis knows for sure what's coming. Louis feigns innocence instantaneously to avoid commotions, aware of the inevitable.

"Why didn't you wake me up, you git?" She snarls at him once she's stepped a foot in the kitchen, long thin blonde hair a complete mess, bags under her eyes visible — hangover written all over her face — and one of her perfectly trimmed thick eyebrows raised in demand.

Louis shrugs, continues to sip on his cup of tea, beckoning for her to sit and have some with him. Cara groans in annoyance, knows exactly that Louis' doing this on purpose, and eventually allows herself to sit. She reaches for one of the cups and starts sipping on it, eyebrows still furrowed in slowly dissipating fume.

After a moment of silence and once Louis' all the way finished his drink, he looks up to see Cara, who now is already enjoying her tea, and asks, referring to the tea, "How's it?"

Rolling her eyes and snorting, Cara puts down her cup and looks up to meet Louis' eyes staring right back at her in question. "Brilliant, of course. As always, Lou. Happy now?"

Louis smirks. "Happier than ever, yeah. Bloats up my pride, yanno?"

Cara snorts again, this time shaking her head, smiling fondly. "Whatever, you cocky twat."

"Hey," Louis protests, "I prefer  _wanker_ , thank you very much."

"Wanker it is then, pleasure's all mine," Cara shoots back.

Louis sticks his tongue out at her and Cara does the same. And until the two of them are being the usual goofs that they are, even at the earliest of the mornings, mind, and even then as Ashton — their other flat mate and newest best friend, new part of their little so-called gang — pops into the picture and is taking the unoccupied seat next to Cara.

"No one woke me up," Ashton states in his Aussie accent as he pouts his lips at his two British friends, who are finding it quite adorable if they're being perfectly honest (since he's  _Aussie_  and it's always entirely new for them, albeit he's got the foreign features, cute dimples, sand-colored curls and all) lifting the only untouched teacup right in front of him and taking his first sip.

Cara nods at Louis with that, clearing her throat in emphasis. "Blame the old man who sorely thinks his teas are the best."

Louis snorts. "Darling. I don't just 'thinks it is'. I know so that it  _is_  and we all know that it is. Right, Ash?"

Ashton downs all the tea he has left, despite its hotness, and nods at Louis in agreement soon after. Ashton is in quite a hurry, apparently. "Absolutely. The best of the best. I don't drink that many teas in my life, but hell, those that you make are, strangely so, killer teas."

Louis smiles proudly at that, pointedly raising an eyebrow at Cara. "See? Even the Aussies love my tea. What'chu gon' do 'bout it now?" He mocks silly American slang.

Cara stands up from the chair and rounds the table with her cup in hand. She flicks Louis on the ear as she goes and puts down her cup on the sink. "I say, how about you bugger off, Lou, or better yet tell us about your days at work, hmm? Topic change. Besides, we haven't talked about you for like, a week, and I can totes tell something's up."

Ashton beams at this. "Yeah! Cara's right. Also, I wanna know how's Indie doing!"

Louis sighs as he remembers Harry once again at the topic bring-up. For one, Louis hates it when he's begging to know more about either things or a  _person_ , for Harry's case — and seeing as he has no clue as of yet about the whole scenario that's been going and going in circles around his head, the matter surely is pounding preposterously at him, and well, as a doctor, he's desperate for all the knowledge he could grasp. At this point, though, unfortunately, Louis yet has nothing.

He sighs.

"Well, your dog is doing just fine, Ash. He's really cooperative actually, like whenever I want them altogether to shower and pray first before eating, and play ball and all — which is brilliant, really. And..."

"And?" Cara prompts as she takes a seat, this time next to Louis, anticipating.

Whenever Louis has a problem, obvious or not, Cara can read right through him right away (creepy enough, right) all the damn time, and that's why she's eager to know more and tackle any corollary set on the table — and by that she doesn't mean the dogs, but is opting for what's concerning Louis' eye bags and restless nights these past few days. She's no fool after all.

Louis shifts from his seat and bites at his lower lip as he thinks about either being honest or upon just calling the topic off.

Coming to think of it, if he's to tell his mates that he is in fact getting bugged about something right here and now, then they would want to know what it is — in that case, he knows for a fact that whether he likes it or not, he would be forced to tell them about Harry and his uniqueness, which of course, might drive them confused and unbelieving.

But then again, though, if he tried to let the precipitate go... well, they would still want to know what it is, wouldn't these shits? Right, of course, did Louis ever have a choice in all this?

"So?" Ashton presses as he casually chews on an apple he's taken from the centerpiece of the island.

"Uhm... I met someone," Louis starts. Cara's left eyebrow raises almost instantly at this, Ashton stops chewing, and Louis can only sigh. "Yeah, I met someone and he's a  _he_."

"Oh," Ashton manages as he subtly averts his gaze from Louis to Cara, feeling uncomfortable and uneasy all the sudden.

And then there falls the killer silence.

Thing is, Cara used to fancy Louis.

She used to like him so, so much (back in their high school up to their college days) that she'd literally did everything for Louis; from buying him lunch purposefully, trying to take him out on dates (all treats on her) even if he'd always  _hide_ from her, and bought him the most expensive chocolate bars at the time despite she's the female between the two of them and she believed in gender roles way back when, despite the fact he was opposed to all of those and that entire sort. She was downright pitiful then, that everyone had been aware.

By the time Louis outed himself to her that one particular evening, admitting that he factually likes boys over girls, been liking them since his sixth form and all, she'd ferociously punched him square in the face and refused to see him for at least three and a half months just to move on from all her idiocy  _and_ Louis while she was at it.

Until now, obviously and apparently, she's still in the process of totally sinking in the fact that her first real crush is gay, and that she isn't (ever) going to be his type, sadly.

With this matter, they all suppose, Cara acting this appalled and at loss for composure whenever Louis is getting linked to a guy, is just accurate. No one blames anyone for it. It's just normal for a girl like Cara, who had been dumped ages ago by someone who is attracted to the same sex, who is now her flat mate in the present, to feel this way — to be affected in all causes — and nothing can dispute that.

Moments later, Cara retaliates eventually by nodding stiffly, looking elsewhere rather than Louis' guilty posture.

"Uhm, and then? Is he fit? Your type of bloke? Are you seeing him?" She asks all of these like she's all right with it, voice betraying her mostly, sounding like she's muttering her words rather than actually speaking them and opening her mouth widely.

Oh, the awkwardness in its finest level.

From across him, Louis looks at Ashton, Cara's jealousy coming off too obvious for them all, and Ashton urges for him to just go on with his tale, probably indicating that she'll get over it at some point afterwards. Louis nods in agreement. "Well, no to all actually, except for the fit part though, because he is. But—"

"But?" Cara asks, cutting through eagerly. A 'but' could be a negative thing, right?

"He is very strange." Louis sighs.

"How so?"

Louis looks at Cara and tells her the summary of the story itself without hesitating, "Before anything else, I found him at the corner of the clinic; without any hints of how he's crashed in and the like, what with the day prior I've locked down the place — strange or what? Anyway, we talked after that, asked him if he was one of the homeless men that usually visit to demand things, you know the rest, but no — he told me no. I believed him. The next thing, he asked to stay for a while so I let him, since he was so polite about it and all, and then he took a seat on a certain chair for two straight hours, to which will be the end of. Two fucking straight hours, man. I mean, who does that?"

"What?" Ashton asks incredulously. "If I were him I would've been dead out of boredom, man."

Louis points at Ashton. "Exactly, Ash, but well. Thing was, he didn't get bored or anything. Wasn't complaining either, right, and then he talked to my dog patient a little later —," Cara ridiculously gapes at Louis at this, not believing and finding it absurd, "— which startled me very much, of course, and then minutes later he was gone within a blink of an eye without saying goodbye, whatsoever. I didn't even hear the door slide shut when he left — it always makes a sound, right? Like glass colliding against marble? In Harry's case, it didn't and—"

"So, his name is Harry then?" Cara asks, leaning back to her chair, twirling some of her hair strands around her index finger as she watches Louis carefully, already calculating the words she'll let him swallow wholly.

"Yes, Cara," Louis confirms, sighing. And then he knows already what to say next, seeing that unbelieving look on his mates, and also,  _before_  Cara can even fight him over this. "He said his name's Harry and that he was neither a homeless man nor some crazed shit. Wasn't a drug user either, so no bringing of that topic up, yeah? And yes, I am not high or anything and I'm telling the truth when I said he  _talked_  to Billy."

"And who the fuck was Billy?"

"The  _dog_ ," Louis squeaks out, looking sheepish yet true to his information. "He fucking talked to the fucking dog. Can you believe it? I couldn't either."

Ashton and Cara look to each other at this, brows creasing in concern and curiosity, gazes speculative. Louis bites at his tongue and curses in his head,  _he shouldn't have told them._

Just when Cara's about starting her rant about this one particular matter, one of the gesture signs being a shrug executed by her, wanting to say something, instead Louis says something first, just because he can't take the judgmental eyeing he's getting anymore. "See? This is why I don't want to talk about that strange happening!" He bursts. Making the feet of the chair screech underneath as he stands, Louis bellows, "I'm not crazy, I'm not lying either — I saw someone, fucking  _talked_ to the dog and then disappeared, end of discussion. I'm not insane, people! Not imagining things, not insane, not making things up, nope. Not fucking insane."

Right.

"Louis..." Cara laments. And so the debate has began.

As Cara once and for all starts arguing with Louis regarding this matter, Ashton, being one to not intervene at all costs (as well as considering the fact that he's too young for all this), excuses himself to use the loo and to go get ready for uni; he's 19, has a supporting mother back from Australia, and yes, he really, really does need to escape here right now, go to school for his first subject and the lot.

Besides, Luke and Calum — his mates — must be waiting for him now, so. Yeah.

Ashton's just really damn glad he's "the cutie Aussie" in their pack, really.


	6. 0.5 - "The mortal was telling the truth"

**__ **

**_0.5 || "My wings brought me here," answered the immortal._ **

**_***_ **  
**_***_ **

 

"Louis, you're being absurd! Who can fucking speak to animals?"

"Harry! That's who!" Louis exclaims, standing up from his chair in utter frustration and irritation, groaning loudly. Is it really this hard making someone believe?  _Cara thinks he's making things up!_ Louis can't have that.

Cara groans as she runs a hand across her face, fully and truly annoyed now at Louis, still trying to convince him that what he's saying is simply impossible and that he needs to calm the fuck down. "Lou, please!"

"I don't care what you say, Cara. I saw what I saw, I've had an encounter with him — or if he's even human, I don't know, what with all the shits he's told me that he isn't a mortal. I mean, what the  _fuck_  was he on about? He told me he was an ang—," Louis cuts himself short, snapping out of his reckless abandonment with eyes wide, knowing better of not spilling any more.

"What, Lou? He told you he was  _the_ son of God? Like we all aren't, Lou. Come on now, whoever this kid was, I'm sure he was just trying to fuck with your head. Just let it go!"

Louis stops for a second, realizing that  _maybe yeah, Harry was just trying to fuck with his head_  — then again, he marvels on, that still doesn't change the fact that Harry knew that the dog's name was Billy without actually asking Karin and that oddly, he disappeared, just like that, without any trace or sound in the least. So, "I don't know, Cara. I don't fucking know anymore, okay," is all he says eventually, giving up on the topic.

Cara sighs. "I'm done, Lou. I just... I don't know what's really happened anyway, but..." She trails off as she looks down on Louis, worry still etched on her fierce facial features. "I just don't want you going off to people you don't know and telling them this and go all batshit crazy—"

"I told you I'm not crazy!  _God_ , Cara!" Louis groans, burying his face against his palms.

"Right, right, yes, I know, Lou, I'm sorry. I just — it's just, you know how much I care and —," Cara reaches out on Louis and caresses his jaw, thumbing at his stubble, "— I want you to promise me you're not going to tell people about this, Lou."

Louis narrows his eyes at Cara, mildly offended at some point, having felt he's still being accused crazed when he's not. So, now they're blue eyes to blue eyes, looking all serious and aggravated. "Why not?" Louis asks petulantly, sounding defensive, because  _fuck, he's not crazy!_

"Please, Lou. Promise me you won't," Cara, nevertheless, presses the matter. Louis is pretty much important to her — the concern of all this in her part — so there's just no way she is going to let this one pass.

With a bit more of Louis thinking her words through and difficult acceptance of the situation, Louis eventually caves in and sighs. How can he reject a serious and only wildly concerned Cara anyway? He can't. He owes her a lot. She's been there since day one through his ups and downs.

Therefore, "Alright, fine. I promise," Louis tells Cara, albeit feeling downright defeated, shutting his eyes and letting his shaking self calm down.

Cara half-smiles at Louis. "There you go," she says softly. Leaning down, she kisses Louis on the top of his head. "All I want is the best for you, Lou, and you and I know that. Right?" She murmurs against his hair.

"Yeah, I know, Cara. Thank you." And that ends at that. Louis heaves a sigh for the umpteenth time this morning.

Later on, once Cara's left the kitchen — to attend work as a part time model — and Louis' finally on his own, he moves right on to go back to his room, so he can shower and face yet another day at work.

Taking all what he needs inside the bathroom, Louis strips out of his yesterday's clothes, climbs in the tub and stands underneath the shower.

He washes himself up, washes his hair, and wanks for only a short moment just to release whatever he's collected in there for almost 5 months of not having someone over for a quick shag — it's been so long and Louis' totally sexually frustrated now, but knowing he won't be able to have a stable commitment with anyone yet, that he knows of, he doesn't dare look for someone he might fall in love with (it's started when Aiden didn't work out for him, that one bloke who broke his heart years prior).

After he showers and has the towel wrapped around his waist, Louis climbs out of the tub and stands in front of the bathroom sink to shave and brush his teeth.

Taking his razor from the vanity mirror after he's smudged some shaving cream all over his jaws and snout, Louis closes the mirror's door and starts to expertly shave, making sure he's beard and mustache free before facing all his clients for today; right after that, he brushes his teeth and makes goofy faces as the last touches (he's a child, sue him) when he checks his face of anything irrelevant.

Overall done, Louis brings back his toiletry inside the vanity mirror carefully, not wanting to break anything.

The moment Louis closes the opening of the mirror, his gaze widens in shock, because  _holy hell_.

"Good morning!" Brightly greets someone standing from behind him.

Louis jumps as he clutches at his chest in total fright. "Holy fuck!" He gasps.

"Oh, you swear," Harry muses, mouth agape and emerald eyes wide, seemingly finding this catch up amusing. Then again that only lasts a second, because from amused, he quickly switches to being unsure. "But is it right, though?" He quizzes. "Is that how you greet mortals here on earth? A big bright good morning?" The fact that Harry's genuinely curious about such, asking  _how mortals greet each other_ , spooks Louis to no end, even so, Louis doesn't think he should address that one persnickety as of yet, instead he gapes at him through the vanity mirror in front of them.

"What the fuck are you..." Louis clears his throat, swallowing. "What are you doing here?" He asks, still clutching at his chest, eyes still as wide as golf balls. "How did you get in?"

Back on his usual Vogue model-like poker face, Harry blinks at Louis and says, rather honestly, "I don't know either, Louis. My wings brought me here."

Wings. What?

Louis breathes heavily, mouth closing and opening, eyes practically telling Harry  _what the fuck are you saying, you psycho?_

"You're mental!" Louis finally exclaims, having processed the upshot about the wings, whipping around to face Harry completely. Harry looks him up and down without having stopped himself, and it's only then that Louis' realizing that  _damn, he's practically naked and there's some strange (attractive) bloke in the same room as him._ Louis swallows the lump on his throat, blushes hard without his consent, as he backs away a little until his bum collides with the sink.

"No, Louis, I am not mental," Harry says calmly, however, adding as a matter-of-factly, "I am a fallen angel; I've already told you that, haven't I?"

"Yes, I — no! I mean, yes, you did and no, I don't believe you!" Louis exclaims exasperatedly, feeling ridiculed. "Fuck, why would I even believe you? And how did you get in? I'm going to call the cops if you don't tell me right this instant—"

"But I just told you, Louis. My wings had brought me all the way from my home and down here."

Louis shakes his head. "God, please tell me I'm just dreaming — I'm not crazy yet. Oh, God, please," Louis chants and moans, covering his eyes with his palms. "Oh please, oh please."

"He does hear you, Louis, but the fact that what you're wishing is something He can't just grant just like that... Well, I'm truly sorry to say, but that wouldn't be allowed just as requested. I suggest you stop."

Louis removes his hands from his face as he slowly peers over at Harry, who is still standing languidly right there in front of him and seemingly not going anywhere, still wearing the same suit and tie he was wearing the very first time they met in his clinic — along with his barefooted posture, messy chocolaty curls and pink-stained cheeks — unusually so, as he slowly drinks him in. "What are you saying? You know just when  _He_  is going to grant people's prayers? Who are you,  _really_?"

"I have told you, I am Harry."

"Yeah, I know, Harry!" Louis stresses, running a hand across his face. "And don't you dare tell me again that you're a fucking fallen angel because—"

"I am."

Louis groans. "Don't!" Stomping his feet hardly on the bathroom floor like a daft, Louis comes out of it and starts toward his closet to rummage the thing of his uniform. "Can you please just get the hell out of here so I can change, you... you weirdo?"

Harry doesn't say anything, but he leaves Louis' room regardless, and yet again, without a sound.

Louis doesn't care if the others will see him when he passes their rooms as he goes, at least they would know that Harry's real and that he wasn't lying to them when he's told them all about him earlier —  _damn those two_ , Louis thinks bitterly now to himself,  _Harry is real! See?_

Thinking of that and having the idea of showing Harry to them, Louis hurries to dress up so he can call on Harry again and show him to Cara and Ashton.

Without combing his hair and without spraying some perfume (jeez, not even applying deodorant on his armpits), Louis steps out of his room and calls all over the flat. "Harry? Where are you? Have you left?"

No answer.

Louis searches the other two's rooms while Harry's not answering, only to see that Cara and Ashton have left. Louis sighs, pressing his forehead against the wall next to Ashton's door.

"Hey, Louis. You called?"

Louis whips around, startled. "You gave me a fright!" He exclaims. "Harry, you shouldn't do that!"

"My apologies for my abnormal behavior, Louis."

"And also  _that_ , Harry! Goodness, why do you act and speak so... so freakishly formal?" Louis groans. "Seriously? You're like an old man in his 80's."

Harry purses his lips in confusion, staring at Louis in utter discomfort. He doesn't know what he's done wrong now. "Is acting or speaking formally a bad thing?"

"Bad?" Louis blinks. "Well... no, but."

"Well?"

"Just — I don't know, Harry, okay? It's just that —  _you_... you creep me out! What are you even doing here?"

"I have no idea."

"How did you get in?" Louis asks for the millionth time.

Harry sighs. "I flew."

Louis nods, rolling his eyes. "Right," he scoffs, walking past Harry and going for the door. He wears his white Vans and goes back to his room for his glasses and messenger bag. Harry stands at one spot, gaze not leaving him even when he's entered a room.

"I am not lying, Louis. I don't lie," Harry defends himself, but later on adds, "well, most times I don't anyway, but..."

Louis laughs sardonically. "Yeah, okay, kid. Whatever you say. Just please — please stop messing with my head, yeah? You've caused too much drama to my life now. Ever since... ever since you popped up behind my cabinet last week and just left without saying goodbye or something after watching me deal with my animal patients for two freaking hours. Also, quit it with the whole act that you can speak to the dogs, because you know what? It won't work again the second time around. You've fucked with my head enough." Walking past Harry and out of his room, Louis goes for the door again and stops to wait for Harry. "Well? Aren't you coming out of my flat? I'm waiting, come on, I'm late for work."

Harry wordlessly takes a step forward and walks out of the flat with Louis. Louis closes the flat and locks it. When Louis looks down, he can't help look at Harry's bare feet and think about how he's managing to walk the cool ground of October shoe-less.

Louis doesn't comment on it, however, since Harry seems fine anyway.

Walking down the porch and out on the streets, Louis assumes Harry's already left, because he isn't bugging him anymore, to which he automatically feels kind of bad about. The kid doesn't seem to have a home, is the thing, like a homeless man Louis guesses that he is, hence the barefooted posture and abnormality (fantasy thinking, immortal talks, and all that weirdness).

But then, when Louis tries to look back and see if Harry's nowhere in sight any longer, he finds himself toppling over as his face bumps with Harry's chin. "Ow," Louis winces as he rubs on his nose, stopping on his tracks. "You're following me?" He asks ingeniously, looking up slightly at the tall boy.

Harry nods. "Yeah. I'm so sorry, Louis, but my subconscious is telling me so that I must, I should. I suppose it's just authentic that I follow you around at all times."

"Huh?" Louis lets out, giving Harry a look, still pinching at his nose. "And why is that?"

Harry only shrugs. "If I tell you, you wouldn't believe me, so I think it's best if I zip my mouth."

Louis rolls his eyes, sighing. "Fine, whatever," he mutters, turning around, opting on continuing with his walk to the nearest subway to ride a tube.

At the duration of Louis walking, he can sense that Harry is still following him, watching him from his back, but he doesn't bother yelling at the poor weirdo boy anymore, and just pretends that he doesn't give two shits if he's to ride the transportation all the way to the south and drop to his vet clinic without bothering to tell Harry to scamper off.

Surely, Harry won't be able to follow him from there anyway, Louis thinks, but then there is the fact that he claims he...

 _Holy shit, right_ , Louis remembers. The fact that Harry just popped up from behind Louis in his own bathroom, in his own flat, in his own hometown.

Louis whips around to confront Harry about how on earth did he get inside his flat and bathroom, but then,

Harry's gone.

"Where did he..." And Louis ends up closing his mouth, blowing off a sigh, because really, is there anything he can do about the reality of Harry having gone?

 


	7. 0.6 - "The immortal whose wings flapped for the mortal"

**__ **

**_0.6 || "Prove it," dared the mortal._ **

**_***_ **   
**_***_ **

Louis is left dumbfounded in the middle of the streets of London with people all but bypassing him, breathing in heavily the wintry air, feeling goosebumps trickling along his veins.

Harry just vanished, again, for the second time. Louis gulps, proceeding to walk again.

Louis upon riding the tube, other passengers surrounding him as he stands amongst them, is still stupefied to his bones about Harry's strange ways of breaking in on someone else's personal spaces, sudden disappearances, and unaccounted literal pop-ups. Why Harry can do those things, Louis doesn't know. Nonetheless, Louis is starting to believe he may or may not be dealing with something rather inhuman here.

The skies have turned grayer than before by the time Louis gets out of the train. He walks along the streets of the pale and dull London, starting his long walk short along the cobblestone pavement just until he'd reach the clinic itself. Turning a corner, Louis bumps with one Harry the strange kid again, and this time he only glares, not saying anything.

"Please don't be mad at me, Louis..." Harry says softly, melodiously, as though he's begging like a cute little child, as soon as their gazes meet.

Louis' strong gaze instantly softens because of that — like he is taken aback; taken aback regarding such fact that this Harry boy owns such beautiful and bright and deep, deep green eyes. That his lips are the deepest shades of magenta, his nose as pointy as ever, and his height — oh, his height — he's slightly, but surely, towering over Louis and boy are his shoulders steady and broad.

Louis gulps, flushing momentarily.

Moments later, he blinks out of his short reverie and proceeds to scowl at Harry. "And why shouldn't I, huh?" He urges himself to snap. "You've been following me around like a creep, Harry! How did you even manage to get here so fast?"

"I fle—"

"No," Louis cuts him off short, shutting his eyes in annoyance. "Forget I asked. Don't answer that."

Harry obediently nods, mumbling, "Okay. Everything you want, Louis, everything. Just... just let me come with you."

Louis' head snaps up in an instant as soon as those words come out of Harry's lips, the realization of this person begging to be with him, clicking a button in his head. He looks at Harry with this, narrowing his eyes on him, only about taking in all of what he's requested in his senses all over again. And again.

And again.

Until,

"But why?" asks Louis curiously, almost whispering, just taking the time to rack the sight of the vulnerable Harry before him — how he's almost looking like glowing, how he has such a delicious mess of chocolaty curls (like, isn't he a homeless kid or something, so how come he has the privilege to even maintain such lovely and shiny curls?), long delicate eyelashes (like a girl's), endless skinny legs, pale yet rosy complexion, and big pink pouty mouth.

 _Harry really is pretty, alright_ , Louis notes, despite the sun isn't shining down on behalf of them (to make it seem easy to see Harry even more so) what with it's hiding behind the dark rain clouds. Regardless, here is Louis, seeing clearly that Harry must be the most beautiful boy he's ever seen in his life, knows such fact that he isn't dreaming. At all.

Louis thinks, and now rather pathetically, why on earth this boy is doing such thing, very eager to even tag along with him in the first place?

The kinds like Harry, excluding the fact that he's barefooted and homeless, can totally like, God, get literally  _anyone_  he wants, can ask them to keep him for a night or two, Louis couldn't care any lesser, can coax any person to have him fed with all their food in their fridge, and even have them giving him money for a day at a mall, because damn Harry's really fit — but then again, it's Louis that Harry wants; Louis who is four-eyed, Louis who is a boring 22 year-old and is probably years older than Harry himself, and Louis who is a stuck up at relationships and overall loveless.

So, really, why is that?  _ **Why does Harry want to stick around with me when he can just pick another bloke or lass, those who're much attractive and richer than me?**_

Harry tilts his head to the side as he twists his lips into a frown, looking at Louis intensely. "Will you please not down yourself? You're very much attractive, Louis, and let me just say I don't need any richer mortal than yourself to feel secured," he tells Louis simply and out of the blue, as though Harry can read his mind (which, yeah, he just did).

Louis startles, eyes widening; and the next thing he knows is he's blushing again. Quite madly this time. "Uh," is all Louis can muster.

"So, Louis."

"Harry..."

"Can I come with you? I don't have anyone, see, I don't want to be lost around here, too, and just like I said, my subconscious is telling me that I should be by your side at all costs."

"Be by my... side," Louis repeats, trying to breathe evenly and calm himself.

Harry nods.

So, Harry and Louis start to walk again, Louis already fine with Harry following him this time. Harry doesn't bother Louis that much anyway, he just walks behind him as they both pass cars, trees and roads.

By the time they're almost at Louis' clinic, Louis speaks again for the first time, if anything a bit muffled, all because he doesn't want anyone hearing it. "So, you said you're an angel," he begins to say, to which Harry starts to be responsive with, tentatively listening to him. Louis continues, "Listen. I don't want to be a total dick about this whole thing, Harry, but I don't think that anyone will ever, and I mean  _ever_ , believe you when you would say that to them either. I mean, you could look like one, sure, but. A tad real angel? An immortal you say? I don't know about that. Don't you think the joke was just... a bit too much, perhaps? I... I mean, why would you say that?"

Harry half-smiles. "I don't joke around, Louis, I'm sorry to say. And I really am an angel, too."

Louis stops on his tracks, feeling rather annoyed and ridiculed again. "Harry," he drawls, "please. Just — stop saying that you are when clearly, you're not. How will I introduce you to people if you're acting this weird? Or —," Louis gestures with his hands in the air, frustrated upon looking for the right word, "—or rather you're this  _perturbed_?  _Unhinged_?"

"Oh, but you don't have to worry about introducing me to people, Louis," Harry says immediately. "They are not capable of seeing a holy—"

"What... the...  _hell_ ," Louis stresses, shaking his head and shooting Harry a look. "Really, Harry, really? You're really not gonna stop with the whole lying shtick?"

"Louis, I can prove to you that I really  _am_  an angel, if only you'd let me. And I'll promise to you I wasn't lying the first time I outed my pious self to you."

_Pious. Wow. Harry and his big words._

Louis massages his suddenly aching temples as he beckons for Harry to, "Yeah, alright then, show me it. Be my guest. I'll give you ten minutes to convince me."

Harry looks at Louis for what seems to be a very short two seconds, before he's eventually saying, "You're thinking I'm lying, you're thinking I'm being ridiculous —," And then he's narrowing his eyes at Louis as he continually reads what he's thinking, "— and you're thinking my curly fringes are...cuter if they're brushed up?"

Louis blushes. "Liar!" He gasps. " _Anyway_! Anyway! Not that! I want something legitimate! Anyone could easily pretend they could guess what I'm thinking, you goof."

"How about this then; when you were six, you tried to steal a dollar from your mum's purse, thinking it was something that could buy you some American best seller cookie, when really a pound could do. And then your stepfather caught you and you cried for a whole day, even if you'd already given the dollar back and never really had the chance to hold it that much long, and then you—"

"Oh my God, were you... were you stalking me this whole time, Harry?" Louis accuses, eyeing Harry up and down, mouth wide open. "How the hell did you know that? No one but my family knew that! Even my little sisters didn't have the chance to get told that embarrassing story."

Harry shakes his head, smirking a tiny bit, finding Louis a tad bit funny-faced, but then he proceeds to his next proof, not wasting another minute or so, "How about this —  _Comment à ce sujet, Qué tal esto, Mi a helyzet a, Ce zici de asta, Bagaimana tentang hal ini_ ,

"How about speaking various languages? —  _Cad é faoi ag labhairt teangacha éagsúla?, Dono yō ni samazamana gengo o hanasudeshou ka?, Kako o tome govori različitim jezicima?, Hvordan om at tale forskellige sprog?, Paano ang tungkol sa pagsasalita ng iba't ibang wika?_

"Will this convince you enough that I really am an angel? —  _A_ _f̱_ _tó tha sas peísei arkeí to gegonós óti eímai pragmatiká énas ángelos?, Será que isto vai convencido-lo o suficiente para que realmente son un anxo?, Wird diese überzeugen genug, dass ich wirklich bin ein Engel?, Bu gerçekten bir melek olduğumu yeterince ikna edecek?, Bude to dosť presvedčiť vás, že som naozaj anjel?_ "

Louis guffaws at Harry, pulling and cupping his face. " _Wow_ , Harry," Louis muses as he lets go of Harry quickly, clapping his hands in awe and feeling very thrilled. "Aren't you a very, very bright lad? Where did you learn that? God, you're even smarter than my doctor self!"

Harry smiles a little bit wider, finding Louis a little bit funnier this time than earlier. He knows that Louis is still not convinced, is just being sarcastic, and so Harry proceeds yet again. "How about this, Louis; from the past, I can see... that you've been in love... only once. It was with a boy that had blonde hair, tall, and smiled a lot. He laughed often at your jokes and he was your past coworker — was a very close friend..."

Louis stops from acting so giddy and looks at Harry, whose eyes shut tight, and is looking rather thinking to himself. "What?" Louis whispers, dumbstruck and baffled. "How did you... know all of that?"

"...His name is Aiden," Harry states softly, now opening his eyes to look at Louis' bewildered reaction. "Am I right?"

Louis blinks at Harry, at loss for words and sorely dumbfounded; at this point, Harry knows, he's slightly gotten Louis trusting him about not lying apropos of his immortality.

"I... I don't know, Harry," Louis says after a moment, sounding a bit lost now. "S-should I really believe that you're an..." He trails off, can't say the word he has to say.

Harry backs away a little because of that, all but earnest upon proving himself right. By the time he's halted from backing up, he's at the edge of the pavement. Louis watches him curiously.

"If you're still not convinced yet, Louis, then... just stay where you are and watch carefully," Harry tells him. And just when Louis' finally realized what Harry's about to do, Louis finds he's a little too late, because then, Harry's already sprawled his arms wide and has stood in the middle of the busy road, only to get hit by a car.

Louis' eyes widen at this, frantically looking at his surroundings and checking to see if the people who are bypassing this scene are actually witnessing just what crazy doing Harry is about administering before them. Then again, the problem is that no one can factually see Harry; only Louis does, and so it happens.

In Louis' sights, a huge truck hits Harry.

Fainting beforehand, Louis' eyes cross on their own accord. And so blackness ingests him.

As Louis begins falling to his knees, right before he can even hit his head against the concrete ground, quite already Harry's flapped his wings and has flown to where Louis is about falling, scooping him up to his feet.

Harry flies and brings Louis back to his flat — where he thinks it's safer for Louis.


	8. 0.7 - "The mortal whom senses finally woke up"

**__ **

**_0.7 || "No one but you can see me," informed the immortal._ **

**_***_ **   
**_***_ **

**_Am I flying? Are we flying?_ **

**_...Harry?_ **

"Sshh, Louis," murmurs Harry in Louis' ear as he adjusts his limp body in his arms, looking over the quiet and dull city below them, navigating Louis' flat. "Any moment now and I'd be laying you on your bed."

**_Okay, Harry. Okay._ **

**

Louis wakes up pretty much a little later from his unconscious state, and the first few things he screams out as he does so is, " _Harry, truck!_ " sitting upright.

Harry, who has been sitting by the window since, snaps his head up and looks at Louis by the bed. "Finally," he says, sighing. "I was about worrying you'd wake up the day after. I believe that wouldn't come off so good."

Sweating, heavily breathing, and eyes so wide they might just pop, Louis looks down on his palms only to see how they've gone plain pale. He looks at Harry by the window and his already wide eyes just widen some more. "Harry... you're— you're  _alive_ ," he chokes out. "You're fine? You're fine... You got hit, didn't you?" He squeaks.

Harry shakes his head. "I've told you, Louis," he says calmly, hopping off the window and walking right towards Louis by the bed. "I'm an angel, Louis. I don't die. I don't hurt. Things go through me, hence I didn't get hit this morning by the truck. I just... don't get hit by neither vehicles nor really, anything for that matter."

Louis stares at Harry, rapidly blinking in horror.  _Fuck_. Harry must be telling the truth all along — and after all this time, he's been with a fucking immortal.

Has been gazing warily at Harry before him, speculative eyes boring into the suit and tie clad bloke standing 5 foot 11 inches in a room with him, long soft curls framing his face, all the sudden, Louis hears the front door of the flat slamming shut, all followed by the sound of multiple footsteps erupting from the living room floor.

By that, Louis kneels on the bed to call out on he only is certain of as his flat mates inviting themselves in the flat after a long day at work and studies. "Cara! Ashton! In my room!  _Now!_ "

Harry sighs at this, despite he never so much as sigh in his entire existence, what with he doesn't feel; intellectually, Harry supposes Louis is just that different to the point of bringing emotions out of him.

Louis stares at Harry pointedly having heard that sigh, refusing to neither blink nor even breathe upon being afraid of leaving Harry's standing figure if he ever moved a muscle, dreading that Harry might disappear again. Louis doesn't want that to happen. Louis simply wants for his flat mates to know about Harry, is the thing — he wants them to know that Harry is in fact real, and that he was neither dreaming nor going insane, whatsoever.

Not another second or so, Cara and Ashton come practically bursting through Louis' door; and it's Cara who gasps out, panicking, "What is it, Lou? What's happened?"

Louis quickly points at Harry. "There! There, Cara! Look!"

Both Ashton and Cara look at where Louis is pointing in an instant, two pairs of eyes both wide in alertness, and Louis only watches the two as they stare at the corner where Harry is  _still_ standing, the curly-haired looking back at the two as well. And, see, Louis sure is witnessing this; how his best mates are yet looking at the corner where he's pointed at, to which at the same time Harry is eyeing his two best mates back.

"Well?" Louis asks, frustrated.

"What are we looking at?" Ashton puzzles, scratching at his nape. He looks at Louis in question. "Did you... see a ghost or something, Lou?"

Louis blinks dazedly at this, stupefied. "What?"

Cara sighs exasperatedly. " _Lou_ ," she whines, smacking her forehead with her palm. "Babe, I know it's October and all, the whole Halloween days, horror films and trick or treat thingies, but  _God_. There's no such thing as ghosts, so you have got to stop with the frightened act. Seriously." She runs her palm across her face, stopping at her nose and pinching it.

Ashton beside her, chuckles. "Yeah, Lou, I mean, you can always come to my room after all! So, we can play whatever games you like in my PlayStation. Like, if that will make you any less frightened with these ghosts you're imagining, why not, yeah?"

Louis swallows, swallows, and swallows hard, gaze flicking from his flat mates to Harry. "But... but he's... he's there. Standing. He's still there, he..."

Cara rolls her eyes, huffing. "Lou, please, just call me if you really have something to show, yeah? I'll be at my room." At that, she's gone off.

Harry shrugs at Louis. "What did I tell you?"

Louis ignores him, still too stunned to recollect his shocked self.

Ashton stands on Louis' doorway, still in his uniform, blonde curls sticking out to different directions, black-framed glasses perched on his nose. Apparently, the young one is still waiting for Louis to dismiss him.

"But he's there, Ash, I'm telling the truth, the  _fact_. You seriously, genuinely, don't see anything? Really? Like, a tall man in a tux, curly hair and barefooted?" Louis asks again, sounding desperate now this time, pointing at Harry. "That's him! That's Harry! The one I talked about you lot back in the kitchen this morning, Ash. That's the one — that's  _him_."

Shifting from one foot to another, Ashton brings a hand to his face and scratches at his chin, feeling awkward if not scared. "I don't really see anything standing there, Lou."

Louis stares at Ashton, mouth agape, and then at Harry, only to look back at Ashton again, to which lastly he goes flicking back his gaze to where Harry is.

In the end, Louis sighs in defeat.

"No one can really see you, huh..." Louis mumbles, looking down on his lap.

"No one but you," Harry chimes in softly. Louis sighs again.

"I'm sorry, Lou," Ashton says, backing away to get to the door. "I guess, I'll just see you later at dinner?"

"Yeah, alright, Ashton."

When Ashton leaves and closes Louis' door, Louis flops down on his bed and stretches, still trying to sink in the fact that this really is happening before his wake, that he is in fact being followed around by something... inhuman.

So, Harry is a fucking angel then. Louis groans in his pillow in utter frustration. He can't seem to accept yet that  _yes, indeed, he is being haunted by an angel_ — a beautiful and young one at that, too, mind you — and that he can't quite understand why him of all people. Of all damn people.

After some time, as Louis' eventually redeemed himself from groaning and moaning about some angel haunting him and the like, Harry finally asks, "So, do you believe me now?" calmly so he does, is suddenly sitting beside Louis by the edge of the bed, picking at a stray yarn amidst the sheet.

Louis groans into the pillow one more time, for good measure perhaps, having heard yet again Harry's syrupy slow and deep voice, before finally sitting up straight, and then looks at Harry. "Yeah, okay. Angel, immortal, invisible, whatever," Louis rambles on, nodding his head.

Harry grins for the first time  _ever_. "Thank you," he tells Louis.

Louis cocks an eyebrow at him. "For what?"

"For believing me," Harry says happily.  _Happily_. Funny that.  _Harry doesn't feel, does he? Does he now?_

Louis rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure, don't mention it."

Harry nods obediently, smiling.

"So," Louis says, "I suppose you'll be sticking around with me, then?"

Harry shrugs. "Yes, Louis. And it's whether you like it or not, I'm sorry."

Louis nods. "Alright. I understand, I suppose, but."

"But?"

"But you owe me some answers to some of my questions, yeah?"

"Like what?"

"Like, why me? Why are you here? Where did you come from? All that."

Harry nods hesitantly, unsure if he's able to tell Louis that much about how his life goes, and about how he's gotten here in the first place, what with he himself is not sure how on earth either. Neither Niall nor Michael has contacted him yet regarding this, unfortunately so.

Scooting closer to him, Louis sticks out a hand for Harry to shake. "Alright, deal," he says.

Harry stares at Louis' offered hand for a short moment, still not aware of how humans interact, puzzling over the executed gesture. Louis notices this, to which he rolls his eyes at, just sighing and ending up with taking Harry's in his own hand himself. "There," he says, trying to sound calm but failing, "we shake hands, Harry. It's like an act of sealing our deal, yeah? Like a promise that shouldn't be broken. Take note of that —  _shouldn't_  be broken. Ever."

"Oh," Harry lets out softly, nodding his head like a lost puppy. "I... I see then."

Louis grins, letting go of Harry's hand. "Yep," he says, "you have so much to learn, young cupid."

"Cupid?" Harry quips. Louis nods. "Uhm, no, Louis. I'm actually very far from being cupid. They're way smaller than our kinds, and they have these little cotton wings that are never leaving their backs — unlike us, who only let our wings show when needed; if not then evanescence happens."

Louis brows furrow as he takes everything Harry's said. And, "Oh," he breathes out, heartbeats racing a thousand miles a second, because  _this is so happening, and this is so real, and he's so communicating with a real angel, and yeah, this thing here sure is real if not surreal_. And fuck it. Just fuck it.

 ** _Damn. I got lectured about cupids_**.

Having read that, Harry tilts his head to the side as he watches Louis scratch gingerly on his head, shifting from one position to another.

Harry supposes Louis has so much to learn himself, too, and not just him about the whole human interactions and stuff. Maybe they can teach and help each other out.


	9. 0.8 - "The mortal and the immortal's change in status"

**__ **

**_0.8 || "What is a girlfriend?" asked innocently the immortal._ **

**_***_ **   
**_***_ **

So the day after, the Harry-Louis inseparable tandem slowly happens through the day each day, every day.

It's happened so smoothly, so synchronized and so friendly, that it isn't even funny.

Harry learns that Louis is a very kind man, very down to earth, and is a very warm-to-his-peers kind of person. And that's why it's easy to get along with him.

Every morning, Louis will wake up to searching his room of an angel, whereas Harry; he will either be standing beside Louis' bed and just staring like a statue down on him (hasn't slept) or he will be sitting by the window and looking up at the skies above while muttering prayers under his breath.

This routine goes for a whole two weeks for them — almost a month — and Louis, he finds it strange at first, of course, but as the days go on and this thing right here that's going on still continues being the same for weeks, he eventually confides and doesn't find it strange anymore (...or most times, at least).

In the kitchen, while Cara cooks them breakfast and as they all eat in sereneness when she's done, Harry as if on auto-pilot will be standing right in front of Louis then, whom will be sitting right across Ashton on the table, and then Harry whom is standing right behind Ashton, at all times will be looking at Louis while Louis is eating that is. They can see each other — smile subtly a lot to each other — but Ashton and Cara don't see  _him_ , can't see Harry. Only Louis has the capability to; and regarding that, they have yet no explanation to.

Whenever Louis bathes, every after meal in the mornings to get ready for work, he will only take less than ten minutes  _as always_  before he's finished and refreshed, because he knows — is very aware — that Harry is there, just standing right behind that closed from the inside bathroom door, waiting for him to come out. Louis doesn't really think it through as to why, but something's telling him that he mustn't let Harry wait that long, that he himself doesn't want Harry to wait so long. (Maybe Louis is already getting fond of Harry, he isn't sure...or maybe he's just really a good guy.) So in totality, Louis hurries up as always on taking a bath. For Harry.

When going to work, Harry will always be by Louis' side inside the tube, either looking around at his surroundings and asking Louis about the things he sees outside the window glass, or just behaving completely because they both know better not to chat each other up if there are other people with them — people might think Louis is crazy for talking to himself, as it would seem.

At the clinic, Louis will be serving his clients and give their pets some monthly checkups and Harry will be by the cages with the dogs in the inner room, feeding them with the food Louis had once instructed him to have them fed with —  _Pedigree™_  — and he will talk to the only pug that could see him. He learns that its name is Gunter and he also learns that it's one of Louis' oldest leashed dogs. Louis is yet to have them all adopted, but he's still asking some of his peers and college friends if they want to take home some pets, so really, they're all still under his care.

Indie though, one of the Huskies, is Ashton's and he's pretty much an exception — won't be given away, ever.

Sometimes, when Harry's lounging around Louis' small work place right after feeding the pup in the other room, Louis will be taking this opportunity to ask for his help regarding the dogs, since he's learned that apparently, Harry can  _actually_  speak to the dogs, can hear their thoughts, knows what they're saying and finds out easily what they want. So Louis does ask for Harry's help whenever his patient is being difficult and needy or squirmy — or really, when Louis' just a tad bit lazy to deal with his job in the moment. Ha!

     

Harry will be chuckling at that each time and Louis will be finding his laugh a little bit too adorable for his own good.

So it's nice. It's been nice being involved with Harry the fallen angel so far in Louis' case. And as for Harry, it's really fun being with an independent, witty, cheerful and lovely human being such as Louis. Despite their differences, they work out just well.

When a month passes, Louis' learned a lot about Harry's supernatural traits. For one, Harry doesn't eat. He doesn't sleep too, which okay, Louis thinks that must be exhausting (but knowing Harry's immortality, Louis supposes that the kid just doesn't tire. Like, at all). Harry doesn't bathe (he hasn't changed his clothes ever since he and Louis became known to each other), although he doesn't smell or anything for that matter so it's cool. What fascinates Louis the most about this whole thing is learning about Harry's trait of not aging at all — physically, spiritually and mentally. Louis is the kind of soul that begs to not age; he hates having birthdays unlike any other people, because it only makes him a little bit older than ever and it sucks. If there's anything Louis envies about Harry, it's about his 'I don't age' line that only he can tell one because it's the truth. That lucky bastard.

And lastly, Louis learns that Harry doesn't do falling in love. Wouldn't you believe that?

One night, Louis had asked out of genuine curiosity, "I don't mean to be an analysis snooper, Harry, but... can I ask you something quite personal?"

Harry looked at him innocently and nodded. "Sure, Louis, anything," he said simply.

"Right. Do you have a girlfriend... up there?"

Harry blinked, processing what Louis was asking. And then, "What is a girlfriend?"

Louis choked on the crisps he was munching on and Harry reached out to rub his back. When Louis had recovered, he gave Harry a look. "Seriously? You don't know what a girlfriend is? Do you fallen angels, even fall in love? Or like, kiss girls and get married? Have kids? Grow a crush?"

Harry looked around, seemingly finding answers in his head for Louis... but all he had was none, so. "No, Louis. I don't think so. We...don't fall in love. Love. Hmm... One of our professors had told us about falling in love actually, and he said that it rarely comes our way. And that was why there are only a few of us up there anyway — we're sort of...limited."

So Harry's never fallen in love.  _Yet_ , that Louis stashes at the back of his brain and keeps it hidden away back there. He wants to be the first to ever be told once Harry's eyed a good mortal lass someday. It should be fun, Louis thinks.

Whenever Harry and Louis are alone in their own inside the flat, with Cara and Ashton out for the day, Louis will talk to Harry about a whole lot of stuff. He asks about his life up there, whether he has friends or family up there and if they live just like humans here on earth.

Harry tells him that he does have friends up there and Louis instantly lights up and gets into the topic, all ears and pretty much interested. Harry tells Louis that he has at least three friends in their pack. Two of which are Angelus Niall and Angelus Michael; they're two of the warriors, he says. They rarely come down here and fight demons though, Harry informs Louis, because there are plenty of warrior angels that  _He's_  made and at each angel, equalizes to at least five to six demons all in all to fight alone, so they don't execute for action that much. They have many options, is the thing, so that is it. And lastly, Harry mentions his newest friend to Louis that is Lux — St. Lou and St. Tom's supposed cupid — whom Harry yet doesn't know whether is a fallen angel like him or is, yeah, a cupid just like St. Lou and St. Tom have predicted and wanted. Cupids sure are enthralling most of the time and Saints love them so. So being Saints, Lou and Tom want their little one to become a cupid; they want her to only come in action when it's St. Valentine's Day. They're all good peers up above, Harry tells Louis.

Well... Louis is nothing but flustered. He wonders what it feels like living up there; he wonders what cupids look like; he wonders if  _He_  talks to them, to Harry.

He wonders.


	10. 0.9 - "The mortal feels for the immortal"

**__ **

**_0.9 || "I want more pizza," demanded the immortal._ **

*******   
*******

Tonight is a Friday, and a Friday night is a Louis night with only him, the couch, the telly, and the Sports channel he visits every now and again. He loves himself some game of footie, so Cara and Ashton are usually out for the night, clubbing or shopping, the like, Louis can really careless. They both let Louis have the flat for himself on Fridays, is the matter, and it has already been a thing for quite some time now.

Harry is somewhere around the house at the moment, probably praying, that Louis knows of, and Louis is sprawled like a big buff American couch potato man on the sofa, clutching his phone in his hand, ready to dial the Pizzahut phone hotline.

As Louis dials the number, he waits for the ring as he starts to calculate in his head what he wants to order. Comes the third ring, someone from the other line answers a bright hello and a fast greeting intro, in the end asking Louis what he wishes to have. After some pondering, Louis eventually settles for a box of thin-crusted Italian pizza (without pineapples, because he hates them) and with extra cheese and ham as toppings. He only orders one for himself, since Harry doesn't eat, and then it's done. The crew tells Louis that the delivery will only take fifteen minutes, to which Louis thanks them, hanging up afterwards.

Just when Louis' tossed his phone at the foot of the sofa, meanwhile, Harry comes out of the outer loo and looks at Louis from the doorway. "What's this?" He asks, raising a pink and black cheetah-printed vibrator in one hand.

Louis' eyes go comically wide and he bursts out laughing. "Harry, where did you get that?" He asks blithely, still recovering from his teary laughter.

Harry doesn't react much, just seriously points to the bathroom and says, poker-faced, "In here."

Louis' laughter slowly dies down completely after that, and then he tells Harry while simultaneously wiping his eyes. "Oh, God. Uh, how should I put this... Well, it's actually... uhm, something that some of us, you know, humans in need of releasing steam, use for our own pleasure. Uh, it's something confidential actually, so it's really not necessary to talk about."

"Oh, I see," Harry laments, nodding. "So, is this yours then?"

Louis blushes, squinting around his contact lenses. "God, no.  _No_." Louis begs not to think about who owns such thing, but he thinks it's either Cara's or her friend's that's once visited and played a prank on her, purposely leaving it in their guest's bathroom.

"Okay," Harry says timidly as he steps inside the loo again to leave the sex toy right where he first found it, letting go in a very careful way, afraid he'd break it. Coming out the bathroom, Harry pads across the room and onto the living room, joins Louis with his footie match quietly, but doesn't sit with him — just stands beside the foot of the sofa.

Louis feels awkward about it, with Harry being there and not opting to sit, what with he doesn't tire, but doesn't comment regardless, just carries on watching and glancing Harry's way every once in a while throughout the game.

After some time, a knock on the door erupts, to which has Louis instantly shooting up from the sofa, jogging his way towards the door. It's the delivery guy. He signs a paper he's given and pays, taking the box of pizza from the lad, and bringing it back to the sofa with him, sets it down on the coffee table. Louis opens the box to a whole pack of pizzas, lips parting at the aroma. Taking one out, Louis brings it to his mouth and munches on it. "Mmm," he moans around a large bite, savoring the melted cheese and extra ham it has, to which feels heaven on his mouth.

       

 _Heaven_. Louis suddenly looks at Harry at that, mind going off about something that has to do with Harry... and maybe sharing some slices of pizza with him. Maybe.

"Uh, Harry?"

"Yes, Louis?"

He gestures to the box of pizza set over the coffee table. "Would you, uhm... like some? Just one, come on."

Harry stares at Louis and then the pizza box, going back to Louis, and then back to the pizza box again. "What do you mean?" He eventually asks, rather cautiously. He genuinely doesn't know what Louis is on about.

"I mean the pizza, Harry. I asked if you would like to try one," Louis clarifies, pointing to the laid-out pizzas.

Harry's eyebrows furrow slowly, and God does Louis can't help have his lips parting at that. Harry looks like a damn mannequin; seamless and actor-material.  _Surreal_. "I suppose... I could try one," he says then hesitantly, moving forward.

Louis smiles at that, scooting to the left side to make a room for Harry on the sofa. "Right. Sit here then," he tells the angel, patting the space next to him.

Harry retaliates and actually sits next to Louis, much to Louis' surprise, the sofa dipping underneath them both. Once Harry's seated, Louis feels something suddenly lurching at the pit of his stomach, some occurrence he isn't sure as to what — what the meaning is. He doesn't dwell on it, though.

As Harry reaches out for a slice of pizza, Louis doesn't for the life of him leave the sight of the angel as it does just that lucid move, what with it'll be the first that Louis knows of, wordlessly watching Harry's every move. Not having seen Harry eat, ever, for like a good month or so now since they've met and now, unexpectedly so, will suddenly do, for some reason makes Louis feel funny on the inside. He thinks that this is something he should witness, so he is.

Having a bite out of the slice of pizza then, gaze narrowing and brows furrowing, Harry chews slowly. Louis subtly gapes at him from there, vehemently gazing at how Harry's mouth retracts and opens mid-wide, pink lips covering almost half of the pizza crust as he settles for a second bite, white even pearls gritting as they bite and pull at the substance. Louis swallows his own spit as Harry closes his unbelievably enchanting wide mouth and chews some more.

Clearing his throat, Louis blinks a few times to regain his composure. "So, uh, that good?" He asks a tad bit awkwardly, referring to the taste of the pizza — Harry's first ever pizza.

At last, Harry's eyes light up as he chews faster, unused tongue finally responding to the unusual taste that's coating his entire mouth, the salty and the sweet part of his tongue retaliating to the all new edible and gooey and meaty goodness at the tip of his throat and trachea that he never knew he has, and wow. Harry decides he loves pizza.

Harry doesn't respond to Louis for a while at that, although when he's finally finished his first ever pizza, he looks at Louis giddily and pouts. Like, actually, shockingly  _pouts_. Louis' heart skips a beat then, taken off-guard. "Can I... have some more of pizza, Louis?" Harry asks shyly, looking pretty much hopeful.

Louis' mouth gapes as he stares at Harry with all his might, fully unguarded now. "I — I, of course, Harry, you may," he stutters out, nodding stiffly and fast.

"Okay!" Harry chirps happily and claps, already taking two pizzas at a time, shoving in one on his widely opened mouth.

Witnessing this, Louis' already gaping mouth just only widens further (if that's even possible) and he thinks, Harry must be all famished right now after centuries of not eating at all... which, wow.

Or is it, plausibly and or reality wise, he must just be all excited at the brand new discovery that mortal foods are actually equivalent of heaven itself, albeit only in the tongue, though, and doesn't mean one person wholly living in cloud nine and that entire sort. And well, okay, how on earth would Louis know about such matter anyway? He's only human for Pete's sake.

By the time Louis gets used to Harry eating,  _messily_  at that, the pizza they have, he leans back and watches the match upfront. Absently so, Louis decides to have another pizza slice, so he blindly reaches out on the box of pizza at the middle of the coffee table without taking his gaze off the telly screen at that, not wanting to miss a glimpse of what's happening in the field (Manchester United might just score, he thinks). Despite what Louis thinks about Harry already having the rest of what's in the box, relief fills his guts as he grasps on a slice; Louis then takes it. Feeling the edible being pulled, however, confusion dawns on Louis, because what the actual heck?

 _Harry_.

"Christ—," Louis cuts himself off short, tearing his gaze off the telly just to shoot Harry a rather aggravated look as if to say  _uh, would you mind? You've already ate the entirety of the box!_

And those didn't come out, because what Louis' gaze have met when he glances sideways is a Harry with his face that has multiple remnants of ketchup and pizza crumbs all over his mouth. Louis can't help but stifle laughter at the silly first-time sight then, because it is a holy sight. (Pun fully intended, of fucking course.) Harry looking all food messy? That's a first, alright.

Louis finally laughs at that, one hand still holding on the other end of the only slice of pizza they have left (the other end grasped by Harry). When his laughter dies, he realizes they're like playing tug-o-war, except it should be called 'pizza tug-o-war'. As cliché as that sounds.

"Harry," Louis whines playfully. "I only had one slice, mate. Don't you think I deserve this last piece? You almost ate the entire box!"

Harry shakes his head in full force, very eager not to let Louis have this last piece. He loves pizza, therefore he gets  _all_  the pizza. Harry can be stubborn and selfish at some point after all.

But Louis wants this last piece, so.

"This is mine," Harry says firmly, tugging on the pizza to come his way and off Louis' fingers, "I... I want pizza, Louis. More pizza."

Louis shakes his head and looks at Harry pointedly. "No, Harry. You've had enough. Aren't you full yet, you fat arse? Goodness."

Harry looks down on his stomach and narrows his eyes back at Louis. "I don't know what full feels like, though?" He asks it more than he states it. He's frustratingly confusing if Louis' honest and just —  _bless_ Louis for being able to cope with him, really.

Not having stopped himself, Louis groans in annoyance.

And Harry takes that as a sign to pull at the pizza forcefully, taking advantage of Louis' distracted state. Louis startles rashly to which has made him stumble forward, unintentionally having his eyes squeezed shut at the suddenness, and then ending up on Harry's lap, gripping knuckles resting against Harry's broad and surprisingly hard chest. Harry's eyes widen in utter singularity yet again.

Carefully, Louis pries his eyes open and the first thing he sees is paleness; Harry's slightly peeking out chest. Feeling his heartbeat racing ten miles a second, Louis immediately backs up and scampers away until his back hits the other foot of the sofa, trying his best to be as far as he can from Harry. Breathing in and out, roughly, unevenly and fast paced, Louis blinks at Harry before him.

Blinking rapidly on his own at the other foot of the sofa as he too is, allegedly, completely eluded with the fact that his heart is currently doing flips, which in his case, feels rather funny, Harry makes a face of pure horror. He's never felt something like it in his entire entity, it seems like, and he thinks... it's actually weird in a way yet ... _nice_.

"What was... that?" Harry asks after a minute of deafening dead silence.

Louis licks his lips as he looks Harry up and down from where he is and, well, Louis has no other answer from that as well, other than, "I don't know either."

And Harry nods falteringly at that, eyebrows once again furrowed in focal point, lifting his other hand with the pizza he's successfully taken and slowly grabbing a birdie bite out of it. On the face of it, his heart is still beating madly. When has this started happening anyway?

Moments pass, Louis looks at the telly once he's eventually gathered his composure back again as he bites on his lower lip, feeling his cheeks heating up. Louis' mind is telling him that what just happened was something that was surely unexpected — utterly surreal, at most — and Louis surely didn't expect for Harry to smell ungodly nice.

Well, if he's thinking like this now, then Louis decides he should get out of here, and fast, because this isn't right.

Nimbly reaching for the remote, Louis decisively switches the telly off even without finding out who's won against the match, rushes up to his feet, almost toppling over when his toes have stepped on the terms of his too-big-for-his-short-legs gray sweats, and then tumbles forward to go to his room.

He needs to get his shit together and stop getting aroused around holy immortal creatures.


	11. 0.10 - "The immortal started bending the norm"

**__ **

**_0.10 || "Sleep with me?" asked the mortal._ **

*******   
*******

He isn't sure, but Louis supposes he's escaping Harry.

Of what, Louis doesn't know, despite it's uncommon to just  _flee_  without excusing himself. He just doesn't want to give a damn about it. Perhaps Louis just felt like freeing himself off of ineptitude... Besides, he and Harry are going so well so far and Louis opts for their relationship to stay neutral and all that, so.

Like, who even blush and have their hearts skipping beats for angels, yeah?

(Louis, that's who. Right.)

As it is, Louis gets toward his closet to rack it for clothes to wear in bed. It's late, he's tired and beat up, and he doesn't care if he hasn't eaten a proper meal for the night yet. All he knows is that Harry is right there in the living room, still munching on some pizza (that's caused the awkwardness not ages ago) and is very oblivious with the fact that Louis just had an erection down on his lower region after that rather... intimacy that's surfaced between them, where Harry has been wholly swallowed by oblivion.

Louis thinks it's unfair that angels don't feel (don't experience wanton or lust or an erection in the least) and that the likes of him do.

Harry must be feeling normal as of now, Louis sourly thinks, whereas he is actually at the verge of wanking right here and now in front of his neatly folded and hung clothes while thinking about blowjob mouths and messy, greasy food.

But then again,  _no_ , Louis thinks determinedly, he can't be feeling damn butterflies at the pit of his stomach just like some high school girl getting near her crush for the fucking first time when he's around Harry, who is a fallen angel for fuck's sakes, who also doesn't feel, doesn't grow a crush and most definitely doesn't fall in love.

_Doesn't fall in love_. Louis feels a pang of trepidation at the thought. He brushes it off.

Settling on some pajamas and some white shirt, Louis takes them with him and steps inside the bathroom, strips off of his sweats and shirt and gets under the shower. At the count of three, Louis pulls himself together again, breathes in deeply, and closes his eyes to try and forget about a pair of green mystical eyes, mop of rich chocolaty curls, sea of vanilla porcelain skin and perfect angelic facial features. With just a little bit of self-indulgence, Louis once and for all forces himself to bathe. So he bathes. His erection successfully dies down after a moment and he smiles.

"Lou?"

Louis' eyes snap open right in the middle of a comforting shower when he hears Harry calling out for him behind the bathroom door — and Louis, he switches the shower off almost immediately, slightly in panic.

"Harry?" He stammers out, instinctively so for that matter, already reaching out for the towel. So Louis just fucking stammered. Wow, for the first time ever while with Harry, he's actually stammered hearing him call out. Louis' sure after about a month or so of being with Harry, he's never ever stammered.

Surely he stutters whenever Harry pops out of nowhere and will startle him at some point, but never this... stammering thing, no. It's like Louis' got shaken and he's quivered and it's just something that rarely happens to him. But now it's there, Louis supposes, and it's not even with the fact that because he knows that the boy that has had him hard not too long ago is just standing right behind the door at this very moment and is waiting for him to come out, but it's with the fact that the boy that he's known for an entire month that only for the first time has had him thinking of  _wanking_ after a bit of a long time since, has actually called him with his nickname unpredictably.

 _Lou_.

He didn't see that one coming.

Louis has heard that nickname for over a million times now — from Cara, Ashton, his mum, his little sisters, heck even the majority of his clients — but hearing it coming out of Harry's mouth...

It's just something different; Louis can't quite grasp it as of yet, but it oddly feels... nice, nonetheless. It's nice hearing it from Harry, like, Louis almost wants to get used to him calling him that every now and again, and just be like, become very close to him and erase the imaginary boundary that they thought they had built but really, never did.

Louis just may or may not want Harry to stick around for much longer than he's expecting him to do so; see where this would go at some point and witness everything with his very own naked eyes... or if there's anything that's bound to happen anyway, what with Harry's case of being immortal and Louis being just a mortal.

Checking his appearance on the mirror for good measure, Louis proceeds to the door and opens it; he sees Harry just standing there, face all cleared off the remnants from earlier, no ketchup, no crumbs, no grease, and looking rather perfect again like the usual and, well, Louis wonders how he's done that. Whatever.

"Did I do something wrong back there?" Harry asks straightforwardly, staring at Louis with a pair of Bambi-eyes, all innocent and oblivious.

Louis gulps and shakes his head hastily. "Yeah, Harry, I — I mean  _no_ , you didn't do anything wrong. Why?"

Harry has this poker face plastered across his pale face once again and Louis must be used to it by now, but, no, not really. No, Louis isn't yet used to it, nope. His heart flutters against his chest. "Well, Louis. I think my heart lurched and I don't even know why that is. Tell me, am I a girl?"

Louis' jaw drops and he shoots Harry a quizzical look. "What?" He chokes. "A... a girl? How? What do you mean, Harry? Didn't you know what your gender is? I — and your heart  _lurched_?"

Harry starts to pace and Louis walks out the loo and goes to sit at the edge of his bed, looks at Harry and waits until he talks again.

After a moment, "I don't really know, Louis. I'm... I'm guessing I'm a female here on earth. What do you think?"

Louis cocks an eyebrow at that. "A female," he repeats, amusement building up inside of him all the sudden. "Okay. What's made you think you are a female, you goof?" Louis deadpans.

Harry looks down on Louis and he blinks once, twice, before telling him the fact that, "We, angels, don't have a specific gender, Lou."

And there goes that nickname again. Maybe Louis can get used to that after all.  _Yeah_.

Harry's words process inside Louis' mind for a moment, before — oh.  _Oh, okay._ Louis definitely didn't see that one coming.

Harry has no definite gender. Right, of course. How could Louis not know about that? He's studied that before in Science, he knows.

Biting his lip as he looks Harry up and down — okay, so: broad shoulders, massive hands, tall at height, massive feet, light beard and stubble, sharp accentuated jaw, slightly bulky biceps, long lanky legs... Uh, no boobs, definitely no boobs for Harold. Long eyelashes, right, he's a bit feminine, of course, plump red lips, too big a pair of pretty eyes for his face and...and well, what the fuck is Louis checking out anyway? Of course! Of course Harry is a  _male_!

"Haz," Louis breathes out. Wow, Haz. Where did that pop out?

"Hmm?" Harry lends out both his ears, very much willing to listen to whatever Louis is about to tell him. This must be massively important for him to know, Louis supposes.

"You're a male, Harry." And he brings back the Harry nickname just because.

Harry's eyes narrow at the 'revelation' and he slowly sinks down and sits on the floor in front of a Louis in nothing but a towel.

"I am?" Harry asks breathlessly, seemingly unbelieving all the sudden. "I — I mean,  _how come_ I am?"

"Why wouldn't you be, Harry? You're definitely a male. I'm a 110% sure you are."

"That can't be," Harry mutters under his breath, turning away from Louis. Louis puzzles at this kind of act Harry is showing him. He isn't used to Harry acting unsure and panicky like this — as far as Louis' concerned, he always sees Harry as this calm and collected angel, always wearing a straight face and is always sure of everything. Like a statue or a mannequin or a model or just, anything far from downtrodden, really. So.

Louis stands up from the bed and secures the towel around his waist, trying to round Harry so he can see his face that's currently turned away from him. "Hey, what's wrong?" Louis asks worriedly.

Harry just turns away some more and Louis figures it'll be worthless if he tried to round Harry some more as well. He stops. "Sorry, I just. I think..." Harry trails off. Looking back at Louis for the last time, Louis sees how Harry has this flash of worry across his face and it makes his heart jump. What that is all about, Louis hasn't an iota, but it sure gives him worries.

Then within a blink of an eye, Harry's  _flown_  away, gone through Louis' ceiling room and through the very roof of their flat, only a misty glint of Harry's gray and black wings being caught by Louis' sights. No traces of broken roof, no nothing. Just, no Harry any longer either.

His heart drops and he stresses, what must be happening to Harry all the sudden? Has Louis done something wrong?

They never got to this point, is the thing; Harry flying away without giving Louis a warning and all, with Harry looking all so troubled and flooded with thoughts. Harry simply never looks agonized and Louis isn't even sure if he's okay with seeing him like this for the first time, ever — also, Louis' never seen Harry's wings  _that_  near in person before, and the fact that Harry didn't even bother stepping on the windowpane firstly before flying away... it causes predicaments to Louis even more so. There must be something that Harry is facing and... and just. Louis doesn't think he's in the right position to either interfere or ask about what it is.

He doesn't own Harry after all.

Well, Louis only wishes Harry comes back sooner rather than later before dawn or else Louis will try to go and search out the streets for him. And Louis' too tired for that now.

~  
 ** _2:59 AM_**

Louis stirs at the middle of his sleep and he feels something dipping at the edge of his bed. He leans on his elbows and arches his back to check what must be it.

...or  _who_  must be it, rather: Harry.

"Harold," Louis whispers through the dark, voice a tad bit groggy from sleep. "When did you come back?"

Harry is sitting at the foot of the bed and is facing Louis with his back. Louis just yawns and ignores his heart jumping yet again in his chest. What Harry does to him.

"I just got back," Harry answers finally, voice as low as Louis'. They both want Cara and Ashton uninterrupted from both their rooms, it seems.

Louis sits upright and pulls at the covers further to his chest. Looking to his right, he takes his glasses from the nightstand and wears it. Now he can see Harry clearer. And then, "Where did you go then?" he asks.

Harry shakes his head, at last turning around and looking at Louis by the bed and almost against the headboard. "I don't really know, Lou... I just... flew."

"For what, six hours?" Louis muses in question.

Harry nods.

"Oh."

"Yes," Harry responds, nodding and standing up. "You go back to sleep, Louis. I'll stay here." When Harry's about to sit on the window, he returns to Louis and says, "I'm truly sorry I woke you up."

Louis stares at him for a second and he's thinking of an idea in an instant. But first, "It's alright, Haz, really," he tells him. He doesn't want to accept Harry's apology, just a heads up, because there's really nothing to be sorry about anyway if he's honest. Then, "Hey, Harry?"

       

Harry sits on the window and he faces Louis' bed, his long legs hanging as he sits even high up the window box. "Yes, Louis?"

Louis bites on his lower lip and thinks some more. Should he say it? Will it be awkward if he asked for something as personal like that? Louis shouldn't...but he will. He wants to.

"Since I made you eat pizza tonight, Harry, which is a first, and let me just say I'm really proud of you too — uhm, do you think... do you think you could try sleeping as well?" Louis asks patiently, and before he knows it, he's already feeling himself blushing, throat drying and his heart beat racing faster against his chest. Where will Harry sleep? Of course, on  _his_  bed. None other than Louis' bed. Well. Maybe Louis' crossed yet another boundary with this. He hopes not.

Harry blinks rapidly as a reaction for this and Louis; he thinks he wants to die of shame. Like right now.

"Sleep," Harry says slowly, cautiously, like testing the waters. "That sounds..."

Louis swallows the lump on his throat and he shifts in the bed, quickly hiding under the covers to hide his flushed face (although Harry can't see, probably, since it's way too dark in his room) and says in a muffled voice, "Oh, you know what, Harry? It's fine. I — 's all right. I mean, I'm just actually testing what would be your reaction towards it anyway. It's — it's fine, you don't have to. That was just really silly of me to ask, really."

When Harry doesn't answer after a too dragged moment, Louis peers over the covers and looks around the dark room. Harry's gone from the window and he isn't seated on the study chair Louis keeps in his room.

Well, where's Harry?

Louis grips on the sheets and he realizes he still has his glasses on. Louis really is getting older these days. How could he forget?

"So, is this how I'm supposed to sleep?"

Louis whips to look to his right, startled. Sure enough, Harry is already lying beside him on his bed. Louis' heart crawls up on his mouth and he feels...fireworks. Fireworks in the pit of his stomach. Really now.

"You want to?" Louis asks stupidly, almost breathless in utter shock.

Harry only nods. "Yes. Dreaming must be a wonderful thing." Looking up at the ceiling, Harry lies here beside Louis like a corpse, no relaxing position forming on his limbs and Louis, he's just there, staring at Harry and sinking in the fact that after months of being alone, he's once and for all had someone over and lying next to him in bed.

It feels good.

Harry smells nice too. Is that an angel scent? Louis must be losing his shit now, thinking nonsensical parodies, but he likes it. He does. Does he like Harry? Louis hasn't a clue, but. There's that.

Settling back on the bed and letting his head dip against the pillow, Louis chooses to close his eyes and enjoy the feeling of Harry next to him, just breathing and saying nothing at all.

Maybe Louis is starting to build an infatuation for the angel...maybe.

"Okay then," Louis says after seconds of closing his eyes and removing his glasses, "Goodnight, Harry."

Harry doesn't reply, doesn't know what to reply.

And they just fall asleep after quite some time.

**~**

Louis wakes up twice in a row today and he sees Harry next to him when he shifts, looking sound asleep as far as his blurry poor visions is telling him so and he knows just then that it's still too early for him to get up and get going yet, but well. Okay then, so Louis falls right back to sleep, again.

**~**

On the third and probably the last time that Louis wakes up in the exact same day, he abruptly sits up from bed out of a dream he doesn't appreciate so much and when he looks beside him, Harry isn't there anymore just like the first time.

And Louis frowns as he runs a hand through his chestnut-almost-blonde hair at that, his heart funnily reacting negatively against his chest.  _Where could he be,_  he asks himself through his mind,  _did Harry fly out again? Really? Without yet again telling Louis?_

Sighing out of disappointment, Louis blindly reaches out for his glasses by the nightstand and wears them, pushing the covers off his lap as he lands his feet lightly on the floor. He doesn't make a sound. He's too light and too high to make some.

Just when Louis decides to go to the loo for a morning pee and some gargle, he hears a moan somewhere that makes his thoughts vanish away. A low grumbling moan, from Louis' own rendezvous. Louis reluctantly freezes on his spot and leans right over to peer at the other side of the bed to check and see what it was.

And just as he thought.

Harry is lying on the floor, left cheek and chest pressed uncomfortably against the cold tiled floor, both eyes shut tight, curly hair a complete and utter mess, pink mouth in a frown and is a bit parted and oh. Oh, Louis finds it pathetically cute almost right up. "Oh, dear," he guffaws unexpectedly and snickers, "dear oh dear, Haz. Did you fall out of bed in the middle of your sleep?"

Harry grunts in response as he wobbles up to his knees and grabs a handful of the bed sheet that he can muster up with his massive hands; he stands, rolls and rolls of curls sticking up into different directions, and Louis, Louis finds himself laughing all the sudden, enjoying this quite a view of a grumpy fallen angel before him, all bed-headed and is in his sleepy stature. Well isn't this fun to watch.

Harry looks at Louis through lidded eyes and boy are his eyelashes too long for his male structure that even those are creating shadows just beneath his rosebud cheeks. Louis can't help but stare as he sinks in that enticing fact. And before he can quit to, Harry speaks, and when he does, Louis' heartbeat almost falters in his already frantic and heavy chest. "You kicked me off the bed, Louis. While we were sleeping. Why did you do that? Have I done something wrong that I had to deserve that?"

Louis opens his mouth to say something and closes it again, and opens it and closes it again, and then —

"Lou?" A knock on the door. "Are you talking to someone in there? Who's that?" It's Ashton who's asking behind the door. "Erm, Cara asked to get you. Breakfast is served, so..."

Louis gulps, and he feels a panic rush already coursing through his veins when he suddenly sees the doorknob jiggling, and — and then Ashton breaking in.

Louis' eyes widen as he and Ashton meet gazes, him stiffening from his position across the bed with Harry. Pulling his eyes away from Ashton, who's just wearing a pajama bottoms and some tank top with his black-framed glasses — seems like he doesn't have classes today — he glances subtly at Harry and his worries instantly fades away. Louis forgot that Harry is actually  _invisible_  to other people. Well, how silly of him.

"Oh, hey, Ash," Louis laments, grinning forcibly at the young student.

Ashton cocks a suspicious eyebrow, looking around Louis' room in search of someone — someone he's probably assumed Louis is talking to just now before he's intervened right through. "Were you just talking to someone before I barged in, Lou?" Ashton eventually asks when he failed upon searching.

Louis, who is stiffed and practically frozen on his spot (for some odd reason), shakes his head quite vigorously, pretty much coming off too obvious, lest he's hiding some sort of crime he's committed he'd be damned straight up, and runs a hand through his bed hair. "Uhm, no, Ash. I'm not. Why did you think so?"

"Well, I heard you laughing just now."

"'M not."

"You are though."

Louis looks down on his freezing toes and thinks he's sweating. Definitely. He's definitely sweating.

"Hey, Louis," says Harry all the sudden; Harry, who's suddenly standing next to Louis. Louis slightly jumps at the softness of his voice, the hairs against his skin where Harry is holding him suddenly standing on their ends, his heartbeats picking up once more. "It's all right. He can't see me, remember? Go on out and join them for breakfast. I'll follow afterwards when you've recovered completely."

Louis licks his lips; he doesn't nod — so Ashton won't find him any more suspicious, odd or much worse, crazy — and he rounds the bed and comes along with Ashton, leaving Harry in his room and joining Cara in the kitchen.

"Morning, Lou," Cara greets just as Louis and Ashton sit on their usual spots.

"Morning, sweetie," Louis responds in a low murmur, effortlessly making Cara's heart melt right away, making her weak in the knees, her blush at the cutesy name visible, and in general, just making her smile. Typical.

It's a Saturday morning and they don't have appointments at work and school today, Louis realizes only now, and Cara, she has her hair tied up in a too high ponytail, her face makeup-free and her whole persona pretty much homey. Well, Louis likes that about Cara. From looking all professional, fashionable in all of senses, and rich, Cara every weekend is looking like this — this soft, cuddly and just, a youthful woman altogether. This is almost just like those first few times that Louis' become friends with her after their 3-months-long fight aka Cara's silent treatment she'd applied to Louis for those months alone. Louis must admit he misses this side of Cara. She looks so natural and fresh like this and — Louis, he thinks she deserves someone who will treat her like a queen in the future, every day, every time and for the rest of their lives.

Louis never deserved Cara. Cara deserves more than Louis. Although they both know that she still hasn't figured that one out yet, Louis' still optimistic about her realizing for herself sooner, to work on that one and to get over Louis faster than he wants to.

Thing is, Louis doesn't want Cara to hurt anymore because of him. He thinks —  _knows_ it's the only thing that matters anyway.

Cara, wearing a red apron around her waist that's covering her white shirt with cheetah print of  _D &G_ in front and her faded blue denim short shorts, strides forward with a pan and spatula in hand, leaning right over Louis and Ashton's plates to fill them with strips of bacon and eggs. As she does so, Ashton takes a sniff out of all of them right away, instinctively, smiling appreciatively when Cara places an extra bacon strip on his plate.

       

"I missed this," Ashton states, "I missed having Cara around on a weekend."

Louis looks at Ashton and smiles, "You know something, Ash?" He quips, looking back at Cara and affectionately stating, "I missed it too — we missed Cara, didn't we?"

Ashton smirks, and then nods. "We certainly did."

Cara rolls her eyes as she huffs. Louis can see her red face."Oh, shut up you two. You're just grateful I cooked you golden breakfasts, just admit it!" She turns around and places the pan back over the stove, takes a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and drinks from the bottle itself straightly, and yes, yes she truly is blushing madly at this.

"Well, that too, but," Louis says decisively as he takes his cutlery at each side of his plate and starts eating, "you get the point, Cars. We missed you, your sisterly presence —," (Cara's heart drops to her stomach at the mention of 'sisterly' and she slightly flinches from her spot), "— around the flat and your lovely cooking and your brilliant puns, and just you in total, really."

Ashton hums around the food in his mouth as he too, agrees to whatever Louis is rambling about. Cara can only turn back around and join them (with a red face and bitten lips, still) and savor her breakfast.

"I missed you guys too, all right," she says after a moment with a sigh, after a few chews, and after she's recovered from getting caught in her non-ending attraction to Louis yet again, "And I missed cooking for you guys too in my time-off, and yeah, I missed shooting you brilliant puns, thank you."

When Louis makes a sound that says he agrees to everything Cara has said within a mouthful of eggs, they all just eat in silence after that, not adding any more into it and just sinking in the fact that they miss each other.

By the time Harry walks out of Louis' room, Louis instinctively looks up to catch his gaze. And Harry smiles, Louis smiles too.

Harry nods once as though telling Louis to just carry on eating and not acknowledge him at all, both cheeks forming some deep dimples as he smiles, mouthing  _good morning_ to Louis.

Louis nods, turning back to his food and, well, he may or may not have had his stomach get filled of squirming little butterflies after that simple yet effective exchange.


	12. 0.11 - "The immortal feels"

**__ **

**_0.11 || "This does not concern me," said the angel to the human with such indignation._ **

**_***_ **

**_***_ **

Louis comes barging inside the flat just as he's unlocked the door, passes by the living room where Cara and some girl are lounging at (not even having the time to acknowledge that yeah, alright, Cara has a companion tonight), and goes straight into the kitchen and grabs himself some bottle of water as quickly as he can.

Louis drinks from its opening right away, not bothering to pour it firstly in a glass to come off proper in the least, and gulps down everything he's gathered in his throat. Louis harshly breathes in and out as he slumps the bottle against the counter-top, blinking back the tears that are stinging his eyes. Minutes later, Harry comes inside the kitchen and stops to just linger by the doorway, watching Louis tentatively, as per usual looking like nothing but calm and undeterred.

And — Louis groans mentally at the sight of him looking like  _that_. Like, not feeling troubled at all, none — nothing — despite of what's just happened back in the clinic tonight. It really is rather unfair being one to feel, Louis thinks to himself, unlike Harry who simply  _doesn't_.

When Louis doesn't utter a word or anything for that matter, Harry turns around and mutters to himself instead, "I'll be at your room, Lou. Don't call me even if you need me, Cara won't be too appreciative if so."

Louis sighs in frustration as he turns his back on Harry as well, downing the lasts of the water in the bottle and throwing the plastic in the bin when it's all emptied. With the kind of negative reactions Louis is showing as of now, Harry's instantly standing next to him within a fraction and is already holding his arms quite securely, which, in spite of their two months friendship — for them it isn't companionship anymore — still makes Louis startle a little, apparently still not used to Harry's angelic teleportation and whatnot.

"Hazza," Louis hisses, slightly craning his neck so he can glance at Harry behind him, "you scared the shit out of me. One second I'm being dramatic here and you just had to teleport all the way from the door to me just to ruin that. Great. Thanks."

Harry gives Louis' each arm a gentle squeeze, reassuring him. "I'm sorry, Lou. And, uhm, I've already told you. I saw how the other Angelus Angels have taken Sophia's soul earlier and — and all I can say now is, well, she's in good hands. She's in a better place now, so you should be happy instead of be sad. Or in your case, frustrated."

No one talks after Harry, Louis still firmly stiffed right on his spot as Harry holds him upright.

And just like that, Louis starts crying. Finally.

His tears spill and trickle down his cheeks, Louis' shoulders shaking frantically. Harry licks his lips as he tightens his hold on Louis' arms, balancing him from his rather vulnerable ground.

"I just really can't believe I let a client down, Haz," Louis hisses as he sniffles, shaking his head lightly in great disbelief.

It's been a while since Louis' yet again let a dog die in his arms while he tried healing it. Sophia, that was the name of the cream-colored poodle, 6 months old, dropped from a five-step balcony by one of Louis' clients from today. By the time they arrived, Sophia surely wasn't capable of moving its neck anymore, wasn't barking any longer either. She was just whimpering in pain when Louis had held her, and when Louis tried to check her pulse, it was already slowing down... and until she died there; right there exactly in Louis' arms.

Penelope, the owner of said dog, cried all night as she left with her mother and brother, and there stood a sympathetic Louis rooted to his spot from behind his operation desk, Harry invisible behind him, both looking rather agonized — then again, it was mostly just Louis, given Harry's knowledge of the dog's after death whereabouts.

He loves animals, Louis the vet, and so he couldn't believe he's just witnessed, felt, and  _smelled_ one die tonight, at exactly in his arms, of all places. He sure was relieved he didn't vomit right there and then, otherwise it might take Louis ages and ages before getting over the entire daunting scenario.

"Sshh, it's alright, Louis," Harry whispers softly in Louis' right ear as he leans down a little bit, rubbing little circles with the pads of his thumbs across Louis' bicep. Louis hiccups, can't help but blink rapidly some more just to let his tears roll down, trying his best for them to leave his blurry visions alone. They won't, though. Not just yet.

"Lou?" Cara calls out from the living room after a while, some sort of sound made by footsteps padding against marbled floor erupting, signaling that she's on her way to the kitchen. Harry reluctantly lets go of Louis and moves aside a bit, probably just to make some room for Louis to turn around and face Cara from the kitchen doorway. And Louis does when Harry did just that. "Hey, Lou? I want you to meet someone —," she cuts herself sentence halfway when she spots Louis tearing up, the look on her once cheerful face replaced by one of horrors almost right away. "Oh, no. Hell no, honey, what's wrong?" she asks worriedly, concern radiating and filling her naturally quirky voice.

Louis sniffs as he wipes a hand across his face, shaking his head in a 'no, nothing's wrong' way. Cara frowns, knows that Louis clearly isn't, and stands next to Louis by the counter, taking Louis' face and wiping more of his tears away his reddened cheeks. "I'm fine, love, really. 'S just — this dog in the clinic — she, dead, dead on arrival. And I —"

"Louis. Lou? It's okay, babe, it's okay, you don't have to tell me. Just —," Cara cards her fingers through Louis' disheveled fringe, "— how about you just come along with me. I'll let you meet a friend of mine. Don't cry."

Louis nods, looks back at Harry for a second as if to ask for permission, and eventually lets Cara pull him out of the kitchen and into the living room. Cara leads him to the sofa and sits him down with a pat on the back. "Hey, Cara, something wrong with him? Is he okay?" The woman — definitely not a girl — sitting on the single couch asks, seemingly concerned as well just like Cara.

Louis looks at the woman for a second; one thing is that she has blonde curls, is a natural tan, slender at body, has red full lips, owns hazel eyes and all-out looking fashionable. And just to sink in the fact that  _oh, okay, Cara will introduce him to a friend_ , Louis eventually manages to laugh his forlorn away. "Oh, nothing, I'm fine, I just —," Louis denies his obvious despair and shakes his head, "never mind me, please. Uhm, I'm sorry, you are?"

Cara smiles sheepishly beside Louis and clears her throat, starts introducing the both of them before anything else, "Rita, this is Louis, my flat mate and uh..." Cara trails off and Rita's face flashes what seems to be a full recognition, to which Louis immediately knows that Cara must be telling this Rita bird about him. "Yeah, and anyway, Lou, this is Rita. My mate at work. She's my co-model."

Rita smiles, offers a hand for Louis to shake briefly and says in a polite way, "Hi, Louis. It's awesome to finally meet you. Cara tells me so much about you."

Louis laughs shyly, can practically feel Cara stiffening and cowering next to him. Regardless the feeling of sudden awkwardness, Louis reaches out and shakes Rita's hand. "Hello, uh, it's nice to meet you too — and it's really great to know that Cara talks to you about me." Louis wants to say 'talks about me as a friend', but. He supposes he can't just say that knowing it might cause chest pains to certain people.

By the time Rita and Louis pull away, Harry walks into the picture and looks at Louis with a half smile, knows how Louis doesn't want Cara to fancy him anymore; knows every little thing about Louis and Cara's past lives and how Louis' once broken Cara's heart for coming out and how Cara's still in love with Louis even now. Harry doesn't know how he feels about that, but. Should he intervene? No. Louis only vents to him after all. So Harry only hugs Louis that one night when Louis bought himself some vodka and drank until he and Harry have decided to just sleep it all off — apparently, Cara's tried to snog him earlier that night in the kitchen when Ashton was nowhere to be found around their flat.

Louis didn't let her snog him, so she disappeared for the whole entire night and Louis has chosen to get drunk. Harry was there, luckily for Louis, and he's become a pair of listening ears and crying shoulders.

The day after that storm, Cara was magically back to her normal self around Louis again and Louis sure was gobsmacked, though that was the case, he too had let go.

So that was that.

Tonight, surprisingly so, Cara has come home with a girl — a very attractive too, mind — and Louis is feeling rather positive about this. Watching them, Cara and Rita, like these little kittens purring back and forth (not-so-subtly) to each other and vise versa, Louis can tell that something's definitely going on between them. Louis never thought of Cara being with a girl all their lives, but watching this rather cinematic view of fondness and probably months of friendship, Louis supposes Cara fits perfectly with a woman as herself. Louis isn't the only one who's allowed to love someone as his same sex after all.

He just hopes Cara's finally found her someone at this point; if it's this Rita girl, then Louis is fine with that; if it's someone else, then it is fine with Louis too. As long as Cara's experiencing happiness rather than waiting for someone who is never going to love her back for so many reasons.

After some time of a little bit of bantering around with the two ladies and after knowing that Rita, apparently, is a loud kind of bird and is always smiling and giggling, Louis leaves Cara and Rita on their own by the living room and retreats back to his own room with Harry in tow, quietly following behind him. Cara doesn't mention to Rita about Louis' sadness earlier on and he's happy she did not — it would suck for a first impression, they both know, so that ends at that.

As Louis flops down on his bed without even bothering to change from his pale blue scrubs into something more comfy and sleep-worthy of an outfit, toeing off his shoes, Harry floats his way to the chair where he usually sits inside Louis' room and stays silent — they both stay silent. Harry knows he's better off behave than to add up to Louis' stress from working and after facing a pup die in his arms, so. Louis adores Harry for being unbelievably considerate like that.

And their friendship went on like this for the following months.

Yet another month, that is. Louis has grown accustomed to such shtick of always inviting Harry in to sleep with him at night and, Harry, as usual, agrees. Side by side, they talk about stuff. A whole lot of stuff; from Louis' sisters, his mum, his childhood, past boyfriends (and girlfriends), how he's figured out he likes boys, and many, many more; from the most and less convenient ones to senseless and to the much important ones, like Louis, Ashton and Cara's plan of moving out of this flat and having to live on their own someday.

Harry and Louis are getting closer now than the last time, although thankfully still, they aren't fighting and no one's getting on each other's way. So they're cool.

At times when Louis is not in the proper mood to go to the clinic and is lazy enough to just stay at home and be in his room, Harry will be out, and God only knows where he could be. Quite  _literally_. When that kind of situation has gone on for at least thrice in a row, Louis' thought about something to lure Harry and for the angel to just laze about with him; and it is to lure him with the power of keeping some of his drop dead favorite food. Pizza.

One night, Louis has ordered at least five boxes of it and surely, Harry has chosen not to fly away, which has made Louis grin in victory. He's stayed.

When the delivery man has arrived and Ashton has been the one to answer the door out of everyone's behalf of the flat, he has called out, "Louis! Pizza delivery for you!"

And Louis almost stumbled and fell on his face, his feet pretty wobbly and jelly from sitting for hours in a chair, but thankfully he didn't — he would come off too obvious if so — and has made it in the front door to pay for the pizzas and sign a sheet of paper.

When Louis has taken the boxes of pizza and has tried his best to carry them without showing any kind of difficulty, Ashton's puzzled, "Are you... gonna eat all those?"

Louis stilled. "Uh — yes?" He has said sheepishly. Or more like he has asked it.

Ashton sure has got suspicious, but then, "Well, okay. Uhm, those sure are plenty, but. Enjoy anyway." And then he was gone.

Louis' only sighed in relief.

So yes, he and Harry will share all them five boxes filled with pizzas. That night, Harry's owned four and a half of them and Louis' only settled on a half. It's a good thing that that only happened yet once; otherwise Louis will be broke sooner rather than later.

On another day, Harry and Louis talk about the end of the world. Harry tells Louis that  _He_ doesn't tell them when it will be, pretty much, but  _He_ also assured anyhow that it will happen eventually. Louis' shivered on his spot, almost at the verge of clutching onto Harry's hand as they've sat across each other on Louis' floor of the room, just randomly speaking about immortality, angels, demons, and the future in particular.

On a yet different day, Louis' sat on his bed, flipping the top of his laptop open. He's gone to check his e-mail and got one from Lottie, one of his little sisters. She's gone of her way telling him how they miss him back home and how his mum wanted him to visit them at some point when he didn't have work to do or plan, whatsoever.

Louis' replied to her and told her that he misses them all back home just as much, if not much more than they think he does. And it's true. Louis misses them all so much that sometimes he thinks he might just struggle to breathe right there and then. Louis hasn't seen his family for over three months now, distance and all, since he's living out in London whereas they are tucked away far in Doncaster.

Louis has told Harry all about it, has showed him some pictures of Lottie and him, Felicite, the twins and him; his mum and him; all of them in one portrait, and even including his Nan and grandfather at one point in one landscaped photo.

Harry's smiled genuinely as he's seen all of it, saying how Louis resembles his sisters and mum, most especially Charlotte. The twins are as cute and adorable as ever and Louis is pretty much proud of it as Harry's continued to ramble on about their beautification; Louis has continued on to blabber about his childhood days from time to time too while Harry did just that — and how Louis had used to take care of them, his sisters, all when he was yet staying at home and didn't have school; that was back on his Sixth Form days.

Louis' also told Harry about his love for acting back in the days; how he had played Danny Zuko for a school play and how he had starred on some horror film where he was one of the children whom found a dead girl floating in the waters when they had played skipping pebbles on some lake.

The moment Louis' mentioned he's got his medicating skills from his mother, did Harry close his eyes and concentrated on something.

And then — Harry's just suddenly informed Louis that he's watched out for his family back home at the back of his eyelids, and that Louis should visit them because they miss him, like really, really miss him.

That afternoon, Louis has started to cry, feeling nostalgic. Harry has only soothed him, patted his back, and didn't leave his side until he fell asleep.

After a few weeks (after Louis was introduced to Rita and the night when Sophie died), Louis is alone in his room once again, just doing his paperwork right before bed. It's a peaceful and quiet night for him, Ashton's drumming all the way from his room being the only source of noise around the flat. Some time later, Harry pops out of nowhere and Louis doesn't flinch this time, already knows that he isn't alone inside the room anymore and, well, Louis asks, "Where've you been, H?"

Harry is panting —  _loudly._  And so that has made Louis' eyebrows crease in confusion. Putting down the paperwork he's been holding and reading for at least a good half hour now, Louis swivels his computer chair around where he's been sitting and faces Harry with a quizzical look already plastered across his unshaven face.

And — Harry is topless. Whoa, okay?

Louis chokes at the marvelous sight.  _Marvelous sight_. Ha-ha.

"Come with me, Louis," Harry says breathlessly, his soft, exposed and milky chest rising and falling as he breathes manically. His body is smoking hot (like, literally smoking hot, no pun intended), shoulders releasing steam mostly identified as white fog, and Louis thinks Harry must be on some sort of fire. Louis ignores it, thinking it must just be another one of his immortal traits.

"Where are we going?" Louis asks as casually as he can muster, blushing furiously anyway, because fuck, Harry's angelic body really is very taunting. Louis stands up from the chair then, and comes shakily toward the nightstand for his contact lenses to replace his glasses.

Harry walks forward and takes Louis by the wrist, pulling Louis with him just as Louis' done placing his contact lenses on his eyes. Louis lets out a little shriek at the suddenness, but Harry doesn't acknowledge that and instead just carried on carrying him by the back of his thighs and back — bridal style — with no sign at all that Harry's struggling under Louis' weight. Which, that is totally hot.

Jeez. Louis needs to stop fantasizing over an angel. Fuck.

Louis clings onto Harry's shoulders and neck, looking up at Harry with a pair of golf-sized eyeballs, fully taken aback, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as though it's been a routine now for every unexpected gesture. "I'll fly us, Lou," Harry murmurs, and based on Louis' own hearing senses, it's come off sounding as fondly.

How...nice.

Louis' heartbeat picks up against his chest. He sniffs in, and all he can take in is Harry's ever angelic scent. It's suffocating him in a good way. It's very much addicting. Louis tightens his hold on the angel.

Harry flaps his wings, elegance of its gray and black feathers shining through and proudly splaying over, and — well, it's the first time Louis' ever seen them, really, looking all so tall and massive and widely spread; his mouth has gone agape and his eyes are tantalized by its beauty in immediate. Supremacy, it all is. Louis can't breathe properly.

"Oh," Louis gasps as he clings  _much, much_ tighter onto Harry's neck and shoulders.

Harry looks down at him with a soft smile, whispers affectionately, "Hold on tight."

And he steps on the window, not glancing back for anything that matters, and just hops out, wings carrying them both along the wind of a freezing cold December.

They fly above the city of London, bypassing streets, buildings, trees, cars and houses, multiple and various lights lighting up the entire picturesque view. Louis marvels on and cherishes what he's witnessing, fists almost balled beneath Harry's vanilla soft skin, just at his nape and right shoulder. If by chance he's hurting Harry because of clinging too tightly, Louis doesn't notice.

Well, Harry doesn't seem to mind either way.

Harry flies them both for a while, exploring as they fly through the clouds and nudge flying birds on the way, Harry's enormously gigantic wings flapping from his naked smooth back in elegance. Louis can't help crane his neck just to take in the sights of them, in awe of them.

Hours to their journey, Harry then eventually ends up landing on the rooftop of Louis' flat; he lets Louis carefully on his socked feet, smiles at him and drops down to the ground himself to lay sprawled on the roof itself. Harry's wings return back to their natural habitat only God knows where and Louis is a little upset about it. Louis thinks Harry's wings are the coolest, really, thus sue him.

Moments later, Louis stares at Harry lying on the ground of the roof who has his eyes closed, long and dark eyelashes cascading shadows at the hollows of his flushed-pink cheeks from the cold, curly locks dangling on different directions, long and fine torso all out exposed.

Louis gulps at the very tempting sight and when Harry clears his throat for distraction, Louis looks away in an instant, blinks rapidly with his ears hot, covering his shameful face with his palms.

Harry chuckles, eyes still closed, a mischievous smile plastered across his face.

Louis huffs as he regains his composure. "What was that for?" He asks in a demanding tone (although he is smiling a little).

Harry opens his eyes and looks up at Louis. "What?"

"I — I mean, the whole — the whole flying thing," Louis clarifies with hand gestures, voice small and all the sudden shy.

Harry sits upright and he just shrugs as an intro reply, says eventually, "I just wanted for you to experience flying, I suppose. I've been thinking these past few days that I haven't had you flying with me yet, so I... I showed you. And I just thought you might enjoy it and like me more - to want me more to stay with you longer. I don't want you to kick me out, Louis. So I did that."

Louis blushes. "Oh."

"So that's what it's for; I don't want you growing tired of me."

Silence falls right over them, with Louis standing a few steps away from Harry's sitting figure. Probably taking a notice of the situation, Harry motions for Louis to sit right next to him. Louis wordlessly obliges, getting the hint almost right away.

Just then, Louis speaks, "Harry. You... you don't have to worry, really. I mean, I'm a loner, you see. I pretty much enjoy being around you as well and. I don't want you going anywhere."

Harry looks at Louis and he smiles seemingly happily, shifting closer and closer to Louis by the roof. Louis on the other hand doesn't dare looking at Harry next to him, not even one bit; he can just feel himself burning with fireworks that are firing in his belly and, he thinks  _damn._ Damn, damn, damn. He really is fond of Harry now and he doesn't even know if it's either necessary or accurate, considering the matter that is he and Harry being pretty much living in such opposite worlds to one another is just an impossible thing to ever happen.

Louis is opposing to his heart and what it's fantasizing about. He can't have Harry, he knows, so Louis doesn't look at him and just lifts his head up to look at the stars in the night sky instead.

"Thank you, Lou," Harry says after a while.

Louis swallows hard. "For — for what?" He stutters. Shit.

"For wanting to let me stay."

Louis chuckles awkwardly. "Erm. Sure. No problem," he says, faking coughs. His heart might just explode, he sardonically thinks. God.

Harry stares at Louis' long eyelashes and watches quietly as they move along with Louis' eyelids, just watches Louis' thin pink lips as they get pinker because Louis licks them both wet; and Harry smiles contentedly having to witness just those little things about Louis, already averting his gaze from him and up at the night sky too, mirroring Louis' movements.

"You know, Lou," Harry begins, voice soft and fond. Louis looks at him at that, can't help himself. "In the range of my visions from up here... I can at least see a total of 13,898,332 stars."

Louis' jaw drops.

**~**

In the kitchen, around the table, Louis, Cara and Ashton devour their lunch - or at least, Louis does anyway - while the other two are just throwing glances at Louis' way from time to time and are not even touching their Chicken Steak.

So, "Right," Louis finally says, tapping the table quite harshly, "tell me now, come on. What's the matter? Do I have something on my face, mates? Ash? Cara?"

Ashton hesitantly glances at Cara next to him as if to ask if they should tell Louis. "Should we tell him?" Cara asks him instead. Ashton is torn between nodding and shrugging.

Sighing exasperatedly, Louis leans back on his seat and drops his cutlery at each side of his plate. He finds himself something interesting enough to look at in the small kitchen firsthand while he waits for his flat mates slash best friends to tell him what they have to tell him. Louis knows just how these two take a bit of moment to simply decide for themselves, most especially at times where they're contemplating about whether to come down honest with a serious matter as such or worse. Either way they're taking a whole lot of time - also depending on the situation - all the damn time. Louis only hopes they find a way to spill the matter now.

Regarding all of it; it's a tad bit shady, the matter, that is.

"Well, Lou -," Ashton starts. Louis makes a noise of 'finally', "- these, uhm, past few weeks, we've been noticing something different about you and-"

"Halt, halt," Louis interrupts, raising a finger and pointing it at the both of them, "Look Ash, if it's about the pizzas that I ordered last week ago then-"

"No, Lou," Cara cuts him off, sighing, "'s not - it's not just about that. Just, listen to Ashton first, will you?" Louis blinks as he shuts his mouth.

"Right," Ashton proceeds and swallows subtly, "Well, these past few weeks, Lou, Cara and I have been, uhm..." and he trails off, feeling a little bit awkward about the whole thing.

Cara rolls her eyes and decides to once and for all tell Louis herself instead, since Ashton apparently isn't too keen of breaking someone else's bubbles for them. "Ash and I have been hearing you all the freaking time as though you were talking to someone from inside your room. But then, we all know that you never invite a friend over,  like ever, anyway - and yes, the fact that you even ordered a damn bunch of pizzas to eat them all by yourself, Lou? Well, that's - that's odd. Something's not right - something's gone wrong. So what's the matter, Lou? Like, really?"

Louis' caught off-guard. And he isn't even planning to try and lie. "You... You mean you've been hearing us - I mean, me?" He asks nervously. As if on cue, Harry comes striding out of Louis' bedroom, already half-aware of what's happening. Louis gulps dryly, pretty much guilty.

"Well, yeah, Lou," Cara says as she oh so desperately keeps her gaze directed on Louis' stiffening posture. He's way too obvious.

Louis looks down on his plate. "There's... there's nothing wrong with me, guys, really. I guess I'm just a tad bit, uh... lonely?"  _Sue Louis, he has to lie_. Well, he's at the same time telling the truth, though, isn't he? He's lying because well, he's not very lonely anymore ever since Harry's kept him company - and telling the truth, because yes, he was lonely at first. But then, Harry; he came along and Louis felt somewhat happy now, so.

Hey, yeah, he is. Happy, that is. With Harry.

"Lonely," Cara laments as she stares at Louis pointedly, quite sympathetically in that case. Ashton clears his throat from where he is, slightly getting everybody's attention. He cowers back and shakes his head immediately as if to say 'I have nothing to say, don't look at me'. Cara sighs. "I think... I think, Lou, you should like... go out with someone and start dating again."

Louis and Ashton snap their gazes up, mouths agape. "What? Are you being serious?" Louis asks dumbly, can't quite decipher that this kind of suggestion would miraculously come from Cara herself. Of all fucking people.

Cara shrugs nonchalantly, averting her gaze from Ashton to Louis. "Well, yeah. I just. I just think that it's time for you to go find your soul mate, Lou. I think that it's just fair that you're not just living your life inside a box and not having the chance to come out of it and explore a little bit. You know, seek for a much better opportunity. That it's only proper that you finally go and search for your future someone instead of just moping around and talking to yourself at night - I mean, unless you want to end up in a mental hospital, then we'd rather you go out and date a guy, be happy and then live happily ever after. So please, babe, go out and date someone. Have fun, yeah?"

And yes, of course, Cara is blushing madly as she goes, seemingly regretting half of what she's said already, but then again, it's already out there for others to consider and Cara supposes she's done the right thing. If all else fails and Harry isn't here in the first place to stand as Louis' companion, all of what Cara's stated were relevant - that said, Louis still thinks that he doesn't need any of it. Harry is here to keep him company, he's happy with just that even if, granted, yes, Louis must already been growing such fond feelings for Harry but knows that friendship is all they can have because of so many risky reasoning, Louis will still rather it be them; he and Harry, and not to meet other people just to ruin that - ruin any of these that Louis assumes they somewhat already have or had built.

But Louis knows he can't just say no to his mates, especially with such looks that are already splayed across their faces - these hopeful looks they are giving Louis right now. Or at least Ashton is, since Cara's seemingly unsure with what she's done. Of course, she loves Louis; therefore she wants him and not him, dating someone else who isn't her.

Sighing and glancing at Harry's direction for a short moment, Louis eventually mumbles, "Yeah, okay. Sure, I'll go and date someone. For you guys."

Ashton bites his lip around an almost hidden grin, obvious relief rushing through him. Cara on the other hand resumes with her untouched lunch, shoving spoonfuls and chewing hardly. Louis only averts his gaze from them to look back at Harry again who is standing behind Ashton. Louis' heart tugs against his chest as he sees the look on Harry's face - he doesn't know what it means but based from how Harry's eyebrows are creasing and how his lips are turned into a frown, Louis only assumes that maybe, just maybe, Harry is jealous.

Is he though? He's a fallen angel, isn't he? Fallen angels don't fall in love, do they? Therefore, they don't get jealous, they don't hurt, and they don't grow such a stupid little crush, just like what Louis has for Harry. Pathetic. So yeah, Harry doesn't have a crush on Louis, that's a given; he doesn't have feelings for him, whatsoever, nothing.

_Nothing._

Louis resumes back on his lunch then. Harry leaves the kitchen to fly away and ease his mind off the conversation Cara, Louis and Ashton just had in the area, probably. Maybe Harry likes Louis too after all, who knows?

~

At work the next day, Louis works happily with Harry by his side; Louis pulling off jokes from left to right, Harry laughing adorably and cute at each.

And Louis couldn't be happier.

~

Later at night, Louis and Harry come back from the clinic and Louis is welcomed by a half-smiling Cara and giddy Ashton.

"Get changed, Lou. Your date is waiting."

"What?" Louis chokes out, glancing behind him as if to look for his 'date' when really he just wanted to check on Harry.

Harry wears a poker face.  _As usual_ , Louis thinks dryly. And that's why he can't read him at all.

"Yes, Lou. He's my friend from work - he models denim jeans and leather jackets. He's really fit and... and I just thought that he might do. I mean, he's a nice lad and he treats me often; lunch and free time snacks, so," Cara informs him, looking rather more uncomfortable than Louis is now.

Biting his lip, Louis contemplates on whether he will say yes to this one or just reject it altogether.

"Please, Lou. Just go," Ashton urges, "Besides, it's just a date - or not, fine, you can refuse to call it a date then, knowing you - but really, it's just one dinner. What could happen? You can always forget about it in the morning if you didn't fancy the lad. No sweat. Not a big deal."

Louis looks down on his palms. He doesn't know what to say.

"Come on, now. You can't say no, Lou. Zayn is already on his way to Nando's after all." Cara pulls at Louis' wrist and tugs at the hem of his purple top scrubs. Louis isn't able to protest no longer, since no one is objecting anyway.

So Cara and Ashton dress Louis with a pair of powder blue button up shirt and tight black skinny jeans. Ashton has insisted he wore his black Vans and Cara has advised he leave his hair looking sexy and disheveled. When Louis' attempted to wear his glasses, Cara has snatched those away from him and prompted to wear his contact lenses instead. Louis has done so. For everyone's sake.

After the preparation, Louis is ready to go.

And Harry is coming with him. Of course, he is.

Louis arrives at Nando's at exactly 8 in the evening, Harry as his only companion, Cara and Ashton wandering about back on their flat. The restaurant itself from afar is almost deserted, only a few people being inside, and there isn't much any longer, considering the dawn of the night and all. Louis is okay with that.

With Louis shaking, Harry reaches out and holds his hand as an indication he's felt it as well. "Nervous?" He asks softly.

Louis' heart is on his mouth because of the touch. "I... Uhm. No, H. I'm fine," Louis lies.

"You lie," Harry says sternly. After so many months of being with Louis, Harry's pretty much memorized Louis by now. He can't lie to him, not with an immortal like him.

Louis sighs as he rolls his eyes. "You got me. Hurray."

Harry doesn't respond with his antic. Instead, he asks, "Are you going in then?"

Louis bites on his lower lip, looks at Harry next to him and tries his best not to back out on this dinner date. Thing is, Harry looks rather immensely beautiful tonight, and by that Louis is torn between rejecting his best mates about this whole thing, so he can just be with Harry and eat lots and lots of pizzas with him back in his room, or to just go on with this whole dating thing and risk everything, knowing that his crush for Harry is so alive and there, choose not to let it grow larger, because really, Louis knows he can't have Harry anyway no matter what. So.

Well, Louis doesn't know what it would be.

Maybe Louis should tell Harry about what he feels before anything else, just so his heart would perhaps deflate a little regarding all his frustration.

"Yeah," Louis breathes out, finally, squeezing Harry's hand in his, "But before I go, Harry, I just want to say that-"

"You have feelings for me," Harry cuts him and says it himself instead, "I know, Lou. I know."

Louis' face flushes red and he doesn't dare look at Harry with that. "Since... since when have you known?"

"For a while."

"And?" Louis prompts.

Harry swallows. "And, what? What, I — what do you mean?"

Harry just stuttered; he just  _stuttered_. He never stutters, Louis thinks, what the hell does that mean?

Looking back at Nando's without answering Harry's question, Louis inhales sharply and thinks he's already made up his mind. He's going in. Harry doesn't want him anyway, it's clear as day.

When Louis takes a few steps forward, Harry lets him. He just lets him. Louis waits for Harry to say something, just anything. Perhaps to ask him not to go... or to object, but.

Nothing. He gets nothing. Not a word from Harry.

Louis' heart drops to his stomach.

"So... I guess I'm going in. Uhm. Aren't you coming with me, Harry?" Louis asks cautiously, slowly.

December night falls silent temporarily between Harry and Louis, being the cool breeze as the only source of sound, the almost empty street just becoming emptier by the second.

"No," Harry says after a moment, voice stinging cold, sounding hurt. Louis whips around to face Harry quickly at that.

"Haz, you know I'd rather eat a bunch of pizza with you than to go to this date, right?" Harry's already had his wings flapping, ready to leave the scene. "Look, H, please don't go-"

And Harry is gone. Louis watches him as he flies in full speed up, up, up and away, flying through the dark evening clouds, vanishing through the foggy almost-Christmas air and leaving nothing but a few black feathers plucked off from his wings, dropping hazily like raindrops over the top of Louis' head.

Louis catches one of them as a tear rolls down from his left eye, cheeks beet red. He pockets the feather and turns away, abandoning his date for the night.

Is Harry mad? Why is he mad? Jealousy?

Louis hasn't an iota; he sure is hurting though, is all he knows.

He just wishes Harry would come back.


	13. 0.12 - "The immortal decided to turn"

**_0.12 || "Jump off; turn into one of them," commanded the Almighty._ **

_******* _

_******* _

At first he was flying rather languidly, in a straight yet swirly line, and in a bit faster pace, but then after a heartbeat, it went lax. By the time his wings had lost its control and was not being admonished by its Angelus' command any longer, Harry is tearing up and he sure doesn't notice it; he only begins acknowledging it once he's noticed that he isn't going to the place where he had wanted himself to be at, had settled his mind into. Instead,  Harry is going the wrong way as is, defying wings taking him to some foggy area through the dark indigo clouds of the freezing night, and until he is all the sudden out in the open white.

Harry sees nothing but whiteness, place itself accentuated with quietness. He doesn't flinch though, the familiarity of the scene disembarking through him. Harry is standing in nothingness, no steady ground, no nothing - he's still dressed in his usual tuxedo, curly locks all perfectly entailed, skin now a complexion of anything but bright gold unlike the usual vanilla skin that he has when walking on earth - and he knows, just knows what's suddenly going on. Harry takes a step, little baby steps, and until he hears something rustling from somewhere.

So he calls, "Who's there?"

"Harry."

Harry whips around and sees a much brighter lighting, making him squint his eyes. "Who's there?" He repeats, clutching and loosening his grip.

And the brighter lighting moves, comes striding forwards and then, Harry sees it - sees  _him._

" _Sveikas, drauge mano_. (Greetings, my friend.)"

"Niall," Harry breathes out.

" _O aš!_  (And me!)" beams another one.

"Michael?" Harry quizzes, nearly smiling now.

The bright lighting Niall and Michael wear all around them - angelic auras - slowly fade away as they walk further, further, further where Harry is.

And - until Harry finally sees them, wholly at that, without any difficulty. Harry looks at his Angelus friends and examines them by how they look now from before.

Speckles; golden shadow figures; human form.

Niall as his human form has blonde hair with bits of brunette at the roots of it, is smaller than Harry himself, and owns a goofy smile, something that one could look at for a long time and would make them happy - something contagious as is. Michael on the other hand has green hair, which is odd so to say, perfectly carved red plump lips, almost like Harry's, seductive smile and broad features, unlike Niall who is a bit lanky. Harry smiles at them; they're just like him right at this moment and he isn't feeling so foreign anymore.

" _Kaip gyvenimas Žemėje, mano brangus drauge?_  (How is life on earth, my dear friend?)" Michael asks casually, holding his bow firmly in his right hand, arrows all tucked in a stash that's wrapped around his shoulders, dangling loosely against his back.

Niall and Michael are both wearing their Angelus armors as of now, and Harry can't be more nostalgic about seeing them both like this. Apparently, the time he's spent on earth is a bit longer than he's thought it would be. He's been with Louis for almost three months now, and the time used there is neutral unlike the time they use  _up there_. They barely use time in general though, is the thing, so it's made Harry miss what's up in there and also, his usual companions (i.e. Michael, Niall, Lux, the saints and the cupids).

" _Puikus_  (It's great)," Harry answers truthfully, the thought of Louis coming into mind almost instantly. " _Bet kodėl aš čia? Aš turiu grįžti atgal. Louisas veikiausiai manęs ieško_  (But uhm, why am I here? I have to go back. Louis must be looking for me —)"

"Harry," Niall cuts him off as he shifts from one foot to the other, shaking his head slowly and giving Harry a pointed look. Harry closes his mouth.

Michael looks at Niall, and Niall only nods. Harry puzzles on his spot.

" _Hari, prieš imdamasis ko nors kita, pirma turi atlikti kitą misiją_  (Harry, you have a mission to do before anything else)," Michael initiates, stepping forward.

" _Misija_  (A mission)," Harry admonishes.

" _Taip_  (Yes)," Niall confirms and nods. " _Turi išgelbėti daug gyvybių, Hari. Mes pranešime tau sielų sąrašą, kurios yra visame pasaulyje ir kurias tu turi išgelbėti - tas, kurios dar neturi mirti ir kurios neatliko savo misijų Žemėje - ir iš karto po to tu gali grįžti į Žemę ir tęsti savo pagrindinę misiją_. (You are to save lives, Harry. We will be impulsing a list of souls to you that you have to save from all over the world - those whom aren't supposed to yet die and are still not finished with their own mission on earth - and right after that, you may come back down to earth and continue with your main mission.)"

" _Aš turiu pagrindinę užduotį?_  (I have a main mission?)" Harry asks, sounding extra confused now. " _Ar turėjote mintyje visą mano vizitą ir kodėl aš prabudau stovėdamas mirtingųjų žemėje?_ (Did you mean the entire point of my stay and why I woke up standing on the mortals' ground?)"

Michael nods his yes, once beaming face replaced by a frowning one.

Harry's eyebrows crease and he starts pacing, looking at his bare feet as he does so. " _Kokia tuomet ji? Mano pagrindinė misija?_  (What is it then? My main mission?)" He asks, " _Ar laimingo sutapimo dėka... ji susijusi su Luisu?_  (By chance... is it involving Louis?)"

" _Mes nežinome, Hari, tačiau šventasis Tomas pasakė mums, kad tokią turi. Jis nesakė, kokia ji, konkrečiai_. (We don't know, Harry - but Saint Tom told us that you have. He didn't say what is, specifically.)"

Harry doesn't stop pacing, whirling mind just going back and forth from when he woke up on the ground, when he saw the vet asylum, when he first spoke to Gunter, when he first met Louis, and then right here, right now in the present.

No matter how much Harry think about it, no matter how smart and clever of an angel he is, he still can't quite grasp the whole idea, as to what could be his  _main_ mission here is, the entire point of his stay in the land of mortals. And that — that is the thing when you're dealing with  _Him_ ;  _He_ simply doesn't inform you,  _He_  simply doesn't inform no one,  _He_  always does arcane — uncanny doings — something that one neither would nor could or should understand. Everything is a mission for everyone to accomplish, everything is a challenge for someone to solve, everything is a task for all to get done, and everything is brief, like all that matters is an assignment, will always be an assignment for one to achieve. And there is no such exception for anyone. Even angels, even saints, even demons. There is just no exception.

 _Harry_ isn't an exception. And he is jolly well aware of that.

When Harry stops pacing, Michael holds his arm and that — that makes him look up to him. " _Mes turėsime išvykti netrukus, Hari, todėl dabar perduosime tau sąrašą_. (We have to leave soon, Harry, so we'll give you the list now.)"

Niall comes forward at that as well, and now all Harry can do is to stare at them both. Niall nods at Michael in signal; Michael nods too. Without warning, Niall and Michael touch Harry on the top of his head and just like that, he's once again fallen to the ground, loose, pliant and asleep.

**~**

When Harry wakes up, he isn't in London. People are moving around him, but he can't see that much, all he knows is they are all human. From the looks of it, Harry is in Italy — he can hear people talking in a very well and fluent Italian language — and his head hurts all the sudden.

Multiple and random names start to course through his mind, multiple and random city names, and multiple and random countries. Harry closes his eyes for a moment, trying to figure out how will he solve this as first things first, and until he's grasped on his first task, that he flaps his elegant wings out, all widely spread and proud, unfamiliar shining armor unpredictably on; Harry flies in full speed within a millisecond — currently bright golden eyes opening just halfway through it — and then he starts up with his assignment; he starts saving thousands of lives.

**~**

Harry learns about healing, about caring a lot for people, about feelings, about loving someone, about significance, about sentiments, about sharing breaths, about caressing, about children, about lives, about humanity, about helping hand, and just about everything mortal.

Four and a half months.

It took at least four and a half months before Harry has finally finished his task. From taking care of the people from Italy to Belgium, from Tokyo, Japan to the United States of America, Africa, France, Brazil, China, Philippines, Iceland, Taiwan to Saudi Arabia, and many more countries. After that Harry is once again back from where he, Niall and Michael last talked.

In the whiteness of nothingness.

" _Sveikiname, Harry_  (Congratulations, Harry)," Niall says, smiling.

" _Jūs padarė įspūdingą darbą, mano broli_  (You did a spectacular job, my brother)," compliments Michael.

Harry is dressed in his usual, hair still in its usual, posture still in its usual, complexion still golden and bright — he's still in his angelic self, after four and a half months in human time — and it's just then that it hits Harry that he's also been gone for that long in Louis' time.

Louis' time.

 _Louis_.

" _Ačiū, mano broliai_  (Thank you, my brothers)," Harry tells Niall and Michael in quite a hurried breath, supposedly nonexistent heartbeat picking up, " _bet ... bet aš galiu eiti atgal dabar? Tiesiog kaip buvo žadėta? I... Man reikia ką nors. Ir aš tai dabar. Aš dingo per ilgas ir—_  (but... but can I go back now? Just as promised? I... I need to see someone. And I mean now. I've been gone for too long and—")

" _Žinoma, Harry_  (Of course, Harry)," Michael says, saving him the trouble. " _Galite. Tiesą sakant, jums gali dabar_. (You may. In fact, you may now.)"

And Harry wakes up yet again; somewhere; just somewhere yet again he doesn't know.

Harry stands up and he realizes he's at the same spot where he'd first woken up months ago — months ago when he didn't know Louis, months ago when he doesn't feel, he didn't know what pizza tastes like, and months ago when he didn't know what missing someone feels like. Months ago when he wasn't what he is now. In the middle of London, is where he is right now, dressed in his usual tuxedo, curly hair a mess, once glowing skin back to its human form vanilla once again.

And —  _time_.

Hurrying regarding the time he's spent without Louis by his side, no communication, very much sudden and no warning whatsoever, Harry whips around only to see that the clinic Louis owns isn't one anymore.

 _Payne's Bakeshop_ , its banner says. Harry frowns deeply.

And Harry remembers how Louis' mentioned it to him once before; Louis' always wanted to sell the clinic, so he can use the money to pay for his new flat.

_New flat._

Harry flaps his wings and he flies, not wasting another minute or so, his destination only set to land at Louis, Cara and Ashton's shared flat. It's what his instinct is telling him, wanting him to do, and so he is. Harry didn't know about love, but he knew that Louis had feelings for him and by now, at this point, maybe Harry loves Louis.

It's just a possibility. Whatever it is though, all Harry wants now is to see Louis; to know if he's doing fine; to see him smile again. Harry wants to see Louis smiling once again, even if it's just for a few seconds, he doesn't care, he just wants to.

And if it yet isn't love that he feels for the human veterinarian, Harry doesn't know what is.

The flat where Louis lives at, is still the same, surprisingly so, but when Harry lands at his window, the room itself and all the furniture, desk, bed, even the tiled-floor, are not the same ones anymore. On top of that, Louis is nowhere to be found from inside the flat as Harry explores around it. Both Cara and Ashton are not inside it anymore as well — and Harry feels something twisting against his stomach all the sudden. Is Harry about to cry? Is this how it feels like having the urge to cry? Harry doesn't know how crying is supposed to feel like, but he sure is feeling... persecuted, tyrannized.

Before Harry can even crumble down right there and then after realizing all that Louis didn't, ever, not even once, tell him about when or where will he move from place to another, Harry flies away... away... and away. And he lands on some place, higher than anything else; Harry lands on top of some unmade building, people wearing helmets constructing the skeletal place itself — sticks and stones everywhere, hollow blocks, bricks and cement all scattered and moving about. Harry hasn't an iota where he is and he doesn't mind one bit.

Louis is gone, is what matters right now, the taunting idea itself.

Where has he gone? Where is Louis?

"Louis," Harry croaks. Harry croaked? Did Harry really just  _croak?_

Looking up at the fine grayish sky, Harry repeats his love's name, "Louis." And batches of warm tears start to gather at the brims of his eyes, blurring his visions. "Where are you, Louis?" He asks no one in particular.  _His love's name._

" _Harry_."

Harry hears his name being called and he turns around to see who it is. He sees no one.

" _Harry_." He hears it again, and it's become much louder this time as though the voice is coming from within his mind, his senses.

"Who are you?" Harry responds this time, own voice sounding hoarse as he tears up.

" _It's all right, Harry, you don't have to know who I am_ ," responds the voice, " _but I can assure you, I'm a friend. An ally_."

Harry swallows around a small lump building from his drying throat. "What do you want?"

" _What_   _I want?_ " The voice sounds as if it's smiling around its own words. " _Well, I want you to tell me what you want, Harry_."

Harry breathes in and out, and he considers what the voice is telling him; about what he wants. Harry knows what he wants — knows exactly what his heart desires.

"I want... I want to see Louis," Harry answers after a moment of thinking. He sniffles, wet tears rolling down his cheeks.

The voice sounds like it's really smiling now and Harry feels something bubbling up in the pit of his stomach, heart fluttering wildly from his chest. " _You want to see Louis, you say? Only want to see him?_ " The voice asks, " _Are you sure that's all you want?_ "

Harry licks his lips. "Well, I — I want to be with him. If... If that's even possible. I'm well aware that I'm only here, in this world, temporarily, and that sooner or later, after I have completed a mission, I will return to the place where I belong again. I don't know how long will I be here, but. But I want Louis. I want to be with him for some reason, and I... I don't think I still want to come home after I see him again. I just..."

" _Yes, Harry. All right. So you want to be with this man. You want to love him — to feel him — to be with him. As a human_."

Harry's eyes widen.  _As a human_ , the words repeat inside his head over and over again, piercing through his mind.  _As a human_. Harry doesn't respond after the voice.

" _How about your everlasting life, Harry? Are you willing to give up, even that, for this man? For Louis? I surely do already know what the answer is, but I still want to hear it directly coming from you_."

And there it is; that's it for Harry.

"I... I..." Harry manages only that. Until his mouth opens once again and in a much determined way at that this time that he says, wholeheartedly and rather quite assuredly, "I'd give up forever to touch him. Yes, I'd give up my everlasting life just to be with him — yes, I'd give up my immortality for Louis. All of it."

" _No regrets, my child?_ " asks the voice.

Harry blinks.

"My Lord?" He asks breathlessly, nonexistent heart stuck on his throat and not beating. "My Lord," he repeats, voice breaking at each syllable. "Oh, our dear Lord, is it thou?"

" _Harry Edward Styles, my son_ ," the voice says as it completely ignores Harry's interrogatives, " _that is your birth name, I apprised you; now the matter, oh one of my fine celestial hierarchies, won't you allow no bemoan, in any way, bygone or extant, once I lend you a proper beating heart, a pair of human eyes, a mouth that you can in your own knowledge to speak only thy languages the functioning human brain I will also be accommodating you knows how to deliver, a heated nose that granted, will be able to let in everything it can on its own range, a warm body with a normal skin that feels, hurts, either willingly or unwillingly, and rearmost form you as a living individual?_ "

"A mortal," Harry absorbs as he looks down on his palms. He looks at them and he sees nothing, just utter paleness and lifelessness, no veins, no sign of blood, nothing, and Harry thinks, he may be looking like a human now, but deep inside him, he doesn't feel like one at all, not really. If his mission ends here in this world, Harry knows he'd be obliged to go back to his own home and will be forced to leave Louis.

Louis. There goes his name again, Harry thinks. He can't seem to get the mortal out of his mind anymore. Thus...he can't, not even in his powerful being, leave Louis.

The voice doesn't say anything, just seemingly waiting for Harry to make his mind up about the offer once and for all.

"I love —" Harry starts but is cut off when the voice laughed.

" _Love is a strong word, my son. I did not mould you to love, Harry. I made you to stand as my companion for the rest of the entire human races' entity_."

"I know, Father," Harry responds, breathless and terrified. "But I already love him and I cannot lie to myself anymore."

" _Very well then_ ," the voice says, " _if you so willingly want to become a part of the mortals, I am in command to offer you to jump down this building and turn into one of them_."

Without hesitation, Harry moves a bit closer toward the edge of the building, looking rather determined if any — a thing about an angel like Harry who very much trusts the Almighty. Thinking about Louis and what the results of him jumping down of, at least, a 20 ft. building, Harry closes his eyes, inhales as the summer-April-almost-May-breeze fans his face, making his hair messier; with widely opened arms and opened sharp gaze, Harry jumps off the building, hopeful, in love and wingless for that matter.

Halfway his freefall, Harry closes his eyes and whispers, breathless and in too deep, deep, very deep, "This is for us, Lou."

 _This is for us_ **.**


	14. 0.13 - "The once immortal bled"

**_0.13 || "It's you. It's really you," gushed the mortal to the mortal._ **

**_***_ **

**_***_ **

Harry wakes up (because apparently in this universe, universe itself wants him waking up multiple times) with a terrible headache some minutes later  after his fall. And — what, a terrible headache? Harry does  _not_  hurt. But he supposes he does now, if feeling this sort of heaviness is any indication. Looking around him, Harry notices he is in fact crowded by a bunch of construction workers from up the balconies of the site, speculative gazes shoot directly at him.

_Shoot directly at him._

"Hey, you idiot! Are you crazy?" one shouts from the balcony of the building.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" another shout follows up.

"If you're trying to kill yourself, son, not here!"

Harry winces as he struggles to stand up to his feet. "What happened?" He squeaks out, voice hoarse and sounding throaty, "my... my head hurts."

"You jumped off the building, son," says one worker, sounding worried. "Have you lost your mind? Why on earth would you do that?"

Harry looks up and squints against the sunlight, turning his head from left to right as he stares at his surroundings and —

— And it hits him — it's hit him hard — mortals  _can_  see him.

Harry stands up quickly in shock and his head throbs almost right away. His head hurts...

He can feel!

"I can feel," Harry mutters under his breath as he reaches up to hold his head and. And he feels something sticky. Something sticky? Harry lowers his hand to see what it is.

Blood — blood stain on his palm. On his pale with  _veins_ palm. Harry is bleeding. He is... bleeding?

"Oh... oh..." Harry hisses, frantically breathing fast and hard, in and out, in and out. "Blood. Human blood. I've got human blood... I've got human blood  _in_ me?"

"Hey, wanker," one man calls, "You okay down there? Should we take you to the hospital or something?"

Harry is still gaping about the whole thing and his head is damn aching; he feels hot under the sun and damn does his tuxedo feel sticky against his skin... his warm  _human_ skin. Harry can feel everything; he is even sweating!

Summer. Right, it's almost May — the summer season.

A moment later, "I'm a mortal," Harry finally says. Harry doesn't know what it is, why or how, but for some reason, he can't help but smile big, big, bigger, in pure bliss and excitement. He's human, Harry is human — and he's breathing the same air as humans, the humans can see him, he can feel, he sweats, he smells, he even bleeds, he has blood inside of him and — and he  _hurts_ , he can...he can fall in love.

 _Fall in love_ , Harry thinks,  _he can finally fall in love._

Louis.

"Louis," Harry murmurs to himself as reality hits him right across the head even harder. "But I already love him. I do, I..." Looking up at the workers in the balconies, Harry smiles widely, both dimples showing. "All of you can see me!" He yells at the top his lungs.

"Why of course, we can!"

"And I'm bleeding!" Harry beams as he spreads his arms wide, tears of joy in his eyes.

"You are," deadpans one man. "Bleeding, that is."

Harry jumps all the sudden, in joy, nothing but joy and the workers probably think, this crazed man in a tux must be the only man, ever, they have seen happy after suffering a high fall.

"I'm so happy, I'm bleeding!" Harry shouts as he skips and skids, almost looking like dancing, laughing loudly to his self, his arms still spread widely. And he does a twirl, closing his eyes as he takes in the heat of the sunbeam hovering over his figure from the skies above.

"Jesus fucking Christ, this kid is mental," murmurs one of the construction workers.

They all start to murmur, talk about Harry's weird behavior, laugh at him at some point and all, but Harry doesn't care. He doesn't, because now he is a mortal and that he can finally  _love_. Harry carries on spinning around with a massive smile plastered across his face, head still wet with fresh blood, bare feet touching the cold cement ground, half of his trousers stained with powdered stones and marbles.

Stopping from spinning and clapping his hands, Harry opens his eyes and hastily chirps out, "I have to go find him!"

Remembering he has no wings anymore, Harry looks around him to search for the exit of the site and where he may start his journey of finding Louis. At one point Harry sees a door; he runs toward it, waving at the workers goodbye. The workers only applause him with confused smiles on their faces, looking almost silly, wolf-whistling and bustling anyway, chuckling genuinely, pretty much entertained by Harry's weird antics from down there.

Little did they know, that Harry is never used to being one of them. Harry is a former angel for Pete's sake!

Harry reaches the highway where all the cars come and go after half an hour — of just walking while singing happily at the top of his lungs, that is — all the way from the building and under the sun.

When he looks up moments later on his walk, said sun isn't showing anymore and is hiding behind the clouds all the sudden. Huh. It's about to rain as it seems. Harry frowns. He  _frowns_.

Harry doesn't have an umbrella, is the thing, he doesn't have a pair of shoes either, he doesn't have any money which sucks, and he doesn't have a car, any sort of transportation, does not know his way around as well, which sucks even more. And the worst part of it all is that Harry doesn't even know where Louis is now, so... how? How is he able to find him?

Is this how it's going to be then, being a human? Harry sighs, shakes his head in utter disbelief.

Looking up yet again in the gray Great Britain skies, Harry spots just in time some spurt of lightning cutting through the clouds, the sound of thunder coming after. Harry breathes out as he looks down on his bare feet, long curls draping down and almost framing his face.

It starts to pour.

Harry walks, he walks, and he sees cars passing by, just passing him by. On his way, Harry sees a stray bench. He sits on it; and his head hurts again as he cranes his neck, the open wound against his scalp in the depths of his mop of curls stinging against the cool rain. Harry winces in pain.

Pain. It's all too new for him. Will he even ever get over this?

Another minute has passed and suddenly, a plush red car is pulling over in front of Harry making him squint against the blinding light it owns. Harry looks up to see what it means.

"Hey," a girl calls. "Where are you heading? Are you lost?"

Harry leans right over as he tries to make out of the girl's face through the heavy pouring rain. The car window is being winded down as Harry leans even further, and — and with that, Harry finally realizes that the girl — woman — is one Cara, Louis' best mate. Fantastic.

"Cara," Harry muses mostly to himself, blinking rapidly as if urging his visions to quit fooling with him. But then she's there, alive and breathing, just there, not leaving, looking at him worriedly.  _Cara_. Harry snaps out of his bewildered expression and starts explaining himself instead. "I... I'm looking for someone and I don't know where to find him, and. And, uhm. I believe you might do."

Cara puzzles. "I do?"

Harry nods, very hopeful. "You... You know a man named Louis Tomlinson? Can you bring me to him, please?"

Cara, from looking rather confused and curious, eventually eases down, and she turns into this calm and relieved person. "Uh, sure. I can take you to him," is what she tells him.

Harry smiles. "Thank you very much."

"Yep," Cara mutters as she simply opens the car door for Harry. "Hop in then; I've got somewhere to be at too, you know. This should only take a few minutes."

Once Harry's settled on the passenger side, seat-belt buckled — every little thing unfamiliar — Cara at last steps on it, and they ride.

**~**

On the first week of Harry's evanescence, Louis had gone confused, terrified and feeling left out all at once; he didn't know what to do at the time, wasn't able to eat properly, sleep properly, come and go home from work peacefully. His mind had always wandered off upon  _where did Harry go, why did he go, what had gone wrong, where did he go wrong, was Harry hurt that was why he left?_ Did he go back to heaven?

Louis was devastated — a million of unanswered questions running in circles inside his head.

And mostly, he misses Harry. He just really misses Harry, is all.

His birthday and Christmas both had passed and Harry wasn't there to celebrate it with him, not one of those. Louis only went home to his mum and sisters those times, celebrated both with them — including New Years, since Jay had insisted — and went back to their old flat again to open some presents with Cara and Ashton, who were as well were back from Australia, from Ashton's mother's, and just nearby London, in Cara's family home.

Louis missed Harry on New Year's then, the sadness obvious on his face; Cara and Ashton were both downright worried, as expected, especially when Louis had hadn't shaved for almost a week and his facial hair was just making it much worse for his physical appearance. Everything was stupid and sad and stupid and — sad. Louis was so sad.

In the morning of January 2nd, Louis and Cara went out and attended a mass; Louis had prayed that Harry was also thinking about him wherever he might be. Wished he was looking after Louis, hoped he'd come back. Louis woke up in the 3rd of January and nothing had changed. Harry wasn't there, still. The flat was emptied of his presence and Louis was feeling numb with so much pain and nostalgia about it.

So it had been a month already, Harry was still nowhere to be found. Louis could only cry in his sleep, dreamless regarding the excruciatingly adorable angel.

And that was what Louis did anyway. He cried. Every night. He couldn't eat that many like the usual, he couldn't sleep that well, he couldn't talk to people that much, he couldn't watch a match on the telly without flailing because he misses Harry — he couldn't order pizza because he knew he'd just die a little more from the inside. Louis was mourning, he knew, but he couldn't do so much as to avoid it. He just couldn't and it sucked, it hurt. Louis was hurt. Harry left without a word.

From February to March, Louis continued with his daily routine and thankfully, he had started getting used to it from then; used to not seeing Harry, used to not feeling him, talking to him, smelling him, touching him. And... somehow, Louis survived.

The last that Louis had seen of Harry was back on the time when he dreamed of him that one February night, the 17th — and Harry looked so fine in Louis' dream, was the painful thing, and Louis only wished he wouldn't dream of him anymore if he wasn't capable of touching Harry in his dream anyway.

Louis knew his life sucked since then.

On the beginning of the fourth month of Harry's evanescence, Louis had decided to finally sell the clinic. His friend, Liam Payne, had bought it from him and had converted it into a bakeshop. Louis didn't mind; as long as Gunter and the other dogs were all adopted and sold by other families, he knew it'd be fine. The dogs were fine, so Louis was fine. Indie had gone off with Ashton too, so that settled that.

On the 21st of April, Louis' new flat was officially finished, fully furnished and was ready to be a shelter for someone; so Louis moved there, paid for it, and left his, Cara and Ashton's former flat. Ashton and Cara moved too — Cara, just next door to Louis' new flat, Ashton rooming with Calum and Luke nearby their Uni.

Now it's almost May; it's almost May and Louis still thinks of Harry.

Looking up at the semi-orange, semi-gray sky through the glass window, Louis thinks, will he even ever forget of the angel that defines perfection? Harry; will he ever forget about his chocolaty curls? Will he ever forget about his green mystical eyes? Will he even ever forget about his color vanilla skin? Will he? Really?

Louis wants to see Harry again... he wants to touch him once again, even if it's just a tiny single brush of skin. He wants to see Harry smile again. Those white teeth of him, those full rosy red lips of him, those deep dimples of him; everything. He wants Harry.

Heck, he  _loves_ Harry. He is in love with Harry the angel. The immortal who won't love him back.

Sighing and tearing his eyes off the sight of the raining clouds, Louis returns his attention back on his laptop over his lap, leaning back on the single couch and picking up his mug of tea; he sips on it and sets it back. Louis drags his thumb against the pad as he taps on some tabs and surfs the net. Louis can't be more bored than ever, just looking up some cat videos to try and entertain his jobless and solitary self.

He's been texting with Zayn a lot these past weeks, and thank God for Zayn and his naturally kind and chill being, he's forgiven Louis from when he ditched him months ago when they were supposed to dine. That night from when Harry had first disappeared too. Now they're mates — only mates when they realized they didn't fit as boyfriends but only brothers from another mothers — and they're happy with just that. They share pots occasionally, actually, Cara and Rita tagged along.

Halfway the video of a cat trying to be Spider-Man chasing a paper airplane, Louis' mobile phone goes off, stealing his attention. Peering over and looking at his phone by the coffee table, Louis pauses the video, sets his laptop next to him, and then takes his phone. It's a text message from Cara.  ** _Some dude is looking for you, sweetie. He's fit, wtf! And we're on our way there xxx_**

Louis' eyebrows crease. Someone's looking for him, Cara says, and he is fit. Louis only knows one person, who is a dude and could be fit for Cara's taste — and it's Liam. Is it Liam then?

Louis replies.  ** _ooohh. who must that be ? and pls oh pls, sweetie, be careful while driving, yeah ? no texting ! i would love to have you both over in one piece . well, two pieces, since there are two of you ! hahaha ! xx_**

Louis snickers to himself as he hits send. He's such a goof sometimes in of his 23-year-old self.

Well, some things never change.

Within a minute, his phone buzzes again and a reply from Cara flashes on his screen.  ** _Aw, I love you, you weirdo. But never mind being careful, because I've already dropped him over. He should be knocking by now. Also I'm off to Ri, so I'll talk to you later. Love you xxx_**

Louis doesn't know why, doesn't know the meaning of it, but for some reason as he reads Cara's text and how he's acknowledged that the 'fit dude' is about knocking in any moment now, makes his heartbeat pick up — tugs, it tugs hard, harder it goes — and until Louis hears some knock coming from the front door that he accidentally drops his phone on the ground. He looks at the direction of his door once and for all, anticipation and anxiousness flooding.

Without picking his phone up from the ground, Louis crosses the living room and walks toward the door. The knocking continues.

Fuck, Louis thinks, why is he even nervous? Whoever this dude is, it can't be Harry the angel. Cara won't be able to give Harry a lift, for fuck's sake, she won't be able to see him. Besides, if it's Harry and he would want to visit Louis, then he would've flew, not take any transportation whatsoever.

Right. Whoever's standing behind the front door, it isn't Harry. It isn't.

And Louis yanks it open.

"What the—" Louis is taken off-guard as he stumbles back a little bit, almost all of him being scooped up by someone's embrace; someone who's wet and freezing cold, probably because of the rain. Louis side-eyes whoever it is, and when his sights catches a mop of wet, dark chocolaty curls, his heart literally stops beating for a second.

"I missed you so much, Lou."

Louis is frozen on his spot, not moving a limb, not at all, his heart on his mouth, eyes wide, hairs on his skin standing on ends. Is he functioning right? Is he dreaming? Is he just imagining things?

Harry nuzzles even deeper against Louis' neck and murmurs once again, "I've missed you. I've missed you so much, I'm sorry I vanished."

Louis' heart melts, hearing that voice yet again. That angelic voice, syrupy slow and deep; that one that takes his breath away each time he hears it.

Louis' balance with himself and Harry's wrapped body around him fails them, and so he topples a bit backward with Harry's plaint body following his. That makes the two of them fall; Louis falling on his back with a soft thud and Harry landing on top of him, and. And that's when Louis' finally registered that, fuck, yes, Harry is really here now. This  _is_ Harry on top of him.

Wincing quite belatedly, Louis cranes his neck sideways to feel Harry even more so, to see his very familiar curls, to smell his very familiar scent and to catch a glimpse of his cheek.

"Uhm, I — wait — wait," Louis stutters, sounding breathless and stunned, holding Harry's shoulders, hands sliding inch by inch to grip tightly on his tuxedo collars. "Harry... Harry."

"Yes, yes, Lou..." He hears Harry murmur.

Harry retrieves his face from the injunction of Louis' neck to his shoulder, and then hovers over him, both elbows at each side of Louis, barricading the smaller man in his arms. Louis stares at Harry's eyes as Harry stares at his', and they don't say anything after that; they just continue to stare, wordlessly, silently... lovingly.

Louis makes sure he's sunk all of Harry in his senses as Harry does the same, presumably. And before anything else, Louis first and foremost finally says, breathlessly at that, "Holy fuck. It's really you, Haz."

Harry smiles at him, eyes watery, cheeks and nose flushed red, curly hair damped, tuxedo soaking wet; he reaches up to cup Louis' face with his large palms and caresses his cheekbones with the pad of his thumbs, lowering his gaze to look at Louis' chapped lips. Harry nods, "Yes, Lou, it's me," he confirms, "and I... I love you."

Louis stares at Harry's face, his eyes, his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his hair, and he shivers...in a rather good way. Without hesitation whatsoever, Harry leans down and kisses Louis straight on the mouth, softly, experimentally, just trying...testing, the feeling yet all so new and unfamiliar. Louis returns the kiss just as softly and gently, closing his eyes to feel everything that is Harry all over him, surrounding him. When they pull apart, Louis looks at Harry again, says quite dumbly, "You do? You... you love me? You really mean it?"

Harry nods vigorously. "I do. I love you very much, Louis. I don't think I can make it without you — I don't ever want to be without you again. I always want you by my side, Lou. At all times. I — I don't think I'd last another minute without breathing the same air as you."

"Harry..."

"Listen," Harry begins, "I... I've become a mortal, Lou, and it's all become possible because of you — because of my love for you."

Louis swallows hard, eyes widening. "A mortal?"

Harry nods. "I am now. I'm actually...bleeding."

Louis' eyebrows crease, confused. "Bleeding? Where?"

Harry motions for his head. "I jumped off a building."

"What?" Louis gasps.

"Yes." Harry chuckles lowly.

Louis panics. "Holy shit! Why?"

Instead of explaining himself, Harry just leans down again and takes Louis by surprise, crashing his lips against his once more. Louis isn't able to protest, can't really turn away. He snakes his arms around Harry's neck and returns the kiss quite eagerly too; Harry wraps his arms around Louis' waists and pulls him closer, angling his head sideways to deepen their kiss. Louis does the same, just as hungry and craving like Harry is. Harry's plump lips are soft against Louis' thin ones, and Harry tastes so sweet Louis might just cry — he's waited his whole life for this moment to come, and he's never expected for this to ever happen. Harry is just too good to be true for a normal hot blooded man like Louis, he knows, and by being loved by an angel, sure is something he had never thought of, ever. It's just simply unpredictable, surreal...amazing.

So Harry, the now mortal and former angel, just said that he loves Louis, the boring 23-year-old man with a scruffy face and zero love life, who celibates, veterinarian —

Louis is a fucking doctor.

"Wait," Louis says as he pulls away from the kiss, panting, "you said you're bleeding, Haz. Let me take a look first, yeah? I'll fix it."

With his face flushed pink, from his forehead down to his neck, and swollen red bitten lips all made possible by one Louis Tomlinson, Harry only nods obediently and lets Louis pull him up to his feet to travel their way to the sofa in Louis' living room.

Harry sits and watches quietly as Louis returns back to the front door to shut the door, muting the loud pelting of rain against cold stone, and go for his first aid kit from within his room.

Harry lets everything sink in for a moment as he waits for Louis.

Louis' new flat is much cozier than the last one he notes. The living room where he is right now is bigger and much more spacious as is, considering the set of couches here as well as the single couches all huddled up, a plasma TV set on his right, a large white furry carpet underneath him, small chandelier above, a massive coffee table in the middle, a rocking chair beside a window on his left and, lastly, a fireplace at the center of the entire room itself. It's dim in the living room and it's already nighttime — the scenery is currently perfect, peaceful and relaxing, and the only noise in area would be the pelting of the raindrops against all windowpanes surrounding the room. It's quite lovely.

By the time Louis comes back with the first aid kit, Harry's attention has gone hooked looking at the fireplace; it's beautiful and enticing and Harry can't help stare at it in awe, drink in the dancing flame and its proper brightness making silhouettes, the warmth it's giving Harry's freezing body, the simple frying sound it's producing and that entire sort.

Louis notices that but doesn't react to it, just smiles down on his socked feet and moves forward. He sits right next to Harry and places the first aid kit on the coffee table before them. Instinctively, Harry looks at Louis and takes him by the back of his neck in the way as though his life depends on it, yet again crashing their still spit-slick and swollen lips against each other. Louis' eyes widen in utter surprise, of course he's surprised, and sees how Harry has his own eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration as he messily and eagerly kisses Louis, leaving Louis' lips damped with both their saliva once he's pulled away from the chastity of it.

"What was that for?" Louis asks in an almost hissing tone at Harry, although he's more like sounding amused rather than stricken. He never thought Harry would be like this despite the fact he hasn't kissed that much yet before. If it isn't an act of someone whose first time is kissing and is still very excited about doing it over and over again just for good measure, then Louis doesn't know what else it mean. Harry's never kissed anyone his entire life, Louis thinks, therefore he's the first. He is Harry's first.

Harry shakes his head at Louis. "I'm sorry. I can't help it, Louis. I just — I just feel like kissing you all the time. It's just... all too new to me. I've never expected the feeling of kissing someone, you see, and with you, it's almost perfect. And I, I think I love kissing you a lot... Uhm, and I love you." He chokes on a laugh, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Louis, but I guess I'll just keep on saying those three words unless you order me to stop." A beat, "I love you."

Louis blushes as he stares at Harry's face through the dimness of the room, despite the darkness and illuminating light the flames are providing them that is. Louis takes in the sincerity in Harry's voice, how Harry is staring at him, how Harry is still holding him close, just close, and not letting go at all — seemingly refusing to let go.

At this moment, Louis wants to cry in joy.

"Harry," he chokes out.

Harry swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing up and down against his throat. His hold on Louis tightens in an instant, gaze holding onto Louis' own. "Yes, Lou?" Harry asks quietly, a bit stammering in a natural way just like any other vulnerable person.

Louis bites on his lower lip as he averts his staring gaze from Harry's wide green eyes, down to his lips, and then his nose, his ears, his neck and his still damped curls. He returns back to looking at his eyes. "You don't — Harry, you don't understand how much I've waited for this moment to come. I... I just... I fucking love you, okay? I love you so, so much. I just wish... wish you wouldn't leave me like the last time again. Please."

Harry opens his mouth to speak, to explain why or how he had gone, but Louis shakes his head curtly as he raises a hand, signaling he doesn't want to hear it; so Harry closes his mouth again and just looks down on his lap as if to show how he's sorry that Louis had to suffer without him — that Louis had to miss him that much and that Louis even had to wait and hurt; stuffs he didn't, doesn't deserve at all. Looking on a much brighter side, however, Harry looks up again and smiles wholeheartedly at Louis, says truthfully as he cups his face, "I will never ever leave you, Louis, ever again. I promise."

Smiling genuinely, teary-eyed, Louis nods as he bites the inside of his cheek, urging to avoid crying completely.

Right here and now, Louis believes Harry with all his heart — trusts him with all his heart and soul — like he fully knows Harry would never lie to him, that Harry would fulfill whatever it is he promised, whatever this is, and that no matter what Harry will be there, always.

Wordlessly and rather cautiously, Louis takes the things he needs from the first aid kit and Harry just watches him lazily, for once sleepily. When he's done, Louis starts patching Harry up, leaning over and closing inches between them.

Harry takes in the unfamiliar pain and winces every now and again, while Louis works on his cut, and it still is admittedly new for Louis to have witnessed. As Louis finishes, he returns all the aiding stuff back in his kit and smiles winningly at Harry, mouthing another 'I love you' just because now he can. Harry is his now, Louis likes to think, and if this isn't yet an obvious sign that they're together now as well, then Louis doesn't know what else this is.

"Are you my husband now?" Harry asks as if he can still read Louis' mind.

Louis isn't able to stop himself hearing that come out of Harry's mouth, so he giggles at it, reaching out to take Harry's hand to clasp it with his. "We're not husbands, love, no," Louis says, chuckling. "Boyfriends, probably, but not husbands..."

"But," Harry says as he scrunches up his nose adorably, puzzling to himself and pulling at Louis' hands to have them both snuggling up to each other on the sofa. "We should be husband and wife, should we not?"

"Oh, no, Haz," Louis says softly, shaking his head that's rested against Harry's shoulder, sniffing in his never collapsing angelic scent despite his rain-dried tuxedo. "The wife role aren't for us lads — that role is for the girls, women. We are the husbands, us males."

"Hmm," Harry hums. "So, we should be husbands now, right?"

Louis shakes his head again, only slyly though since Harry's holding him close, smiling overly widely his cheeks hurt from it. "No, Harold. Not yet anyway."

"Not yet anyway," Harry repeats, letting out a breath.

Louis' heartbeat quickens as he feels Harry's hot breath tickling his skin, looking up at Harry just to notice how the whole room itself has fallen silent all the sudden, both their breathing being the only source of sound, the crickets outside seconding it — it's a very quiet night and Harry, he looks so damn good like this, Louis thinks dryly to himself, why did Harry even love him to begin with? Harry could be living for eternity yet he's given his immortality up just for Louis.

"If you want to marry me, Harry, that is."

Harry stares down at him, lips parted, eyes wide and bright, breathing impassive. "I would want to marry you, Louis, of course. You're the only one I want; I love. I couldn't wish for anyone no more, nothing, it's only you, Lou. You're the reason I came back, the reason I came here. You're the reason that I would want to die instead of living forever. So yes; yes, I want to marry you, be tied to you. Very much, my love."

 _My love_. Harry called Louis  _my love_. No one calls Louis that. Not by his many other exes, they didn't.

Louis is close to tears. Before he can even respond to Harry's mind-blowing speech, they both hear Harry's stomach grumble breaking the deafening silence, and it elicits a laughter from Louis instead of a sob.

"Oh dear, would you look at that," Louis says as he laughs, "you're famished, babe!"

Harry blushes to himself, although obviously yet doesn't know as to why that is. Louis can only snicker to himself, really. His body seems to be controlling itself regarding what he should be reacting to such embarrassment, because well, that's how these things go, innit? Also, what does a former angel know about this kind of retaliation anyway, right?

"Are you going to feed me some pizza?" Harry asks shyly, half-smiling at Louis.

Louis smiles back. "Yes, babe, I will. Anything you want, in fact. But for now, I want to make us some cuppa so we could catch up on some things that we missed for the past four and a half months. Also, I just want you to know... that I want to marry you too, that we will marry soon, my love. In any church, at any time, sure. And that I love you so much and I'm glad you went mortal... just for me."

Harry pulls Louis in his arms again, hastily this time as though he's just ran out of time, and nestles his face on Louis' neck. "Stop," he murmurs against the soft and warm tan skin there. "You're making me want to cry again. I don't like the feeling of crying. I... I cried when I was at the top of the building where I jumped. And for now, I just want to eat. Or drink, that tea you were always serving Cara and Ashton. Please, Lou, just—"

Louis chuckles. "Okay, okay. Come on then, you big baby."

As Harry and Louis walk their way to Louis' kitchen, Harry innocently asks again, "So we're boyfriends?"

Louis only giggles as he nods, taking Harry by the waist and kissing him straight on the mouth in his tippy toes. Louis couldn't be happier than he already is.

 


	15. 0.14 - "The humans finally met their newest in the pack"

**__ **

**_0.14 || "Now we can have sex," said the mortal to the now-mortal._ **

**_***_ **

**_***_ **

So Harry and Louis have chosen not to bring up the issue about Harry's absence in spite of all the chances and free times they had ever since they meet again — instead they've opted to just savor each other's presences' adjacency and sink in the fact that yes, they are in love.

Side by side, next to each other, and laid sprawled on the carpet across the living room, Harry and Louis stare at the high ceiling as they happily enjoy one another's comforting silence and low breathing.

It's easy. Easy and cozy like this. As though the last almost five months didn't happen at all. Harry is happy, Louis is contented, and everything is perfect.

~

Still not able to completely and wholeheartedly process everything in, Harry wants nothing but to explore his body some more; his all new body — a warm human body, that is — and learn all the things he assumes he either should or must learn throughout his mortality, considering what's now. He's bound to live a mortal life, is because, a simple and committed life with his boyfriend, that is. Boyfriend, Harry thinks smugly — hah. Harry is already feeling smug about certain things (i.e. things that involve Louis, conceivably) — now that he's human and is able to pull off facial reactions regarding feelings. Harry doesn't hope anymore for a much better someone other than Louis himself; aside from the fact Louis is already too much for a  _now-man_ like him, Louis also is the best Harry could ever have in his  _just-now_ starting life.

Right, so Harry wants to explore his all new body then. He wonders where he is supposed to start.

Louis on the other hand, is still not used to what's currently happening, more so, what the future will bring to him. Evanescence set aside, Harry has become his boyfriend in no time. His boyfriend for fuck's sake. Surely, Louis has never expected for such miracle to happen to his tad boring life. An angel just magically popping out of nowhere and becoming his friend for so long, and now his boyfriend. Louis won't be any luckier, he knows.

As though planned, Louis and Harry glance at each other after a while, and say at the same time, "Uhm—"

Louis chuckles as does Harry, both looking like nothing but ridiculous right at the moment, tomato-faced and fucking in love, even smitten they are. Jeez, they're plenty disgusting, like teenagers all over again being like this, silly and lovestruck at best.

Biting his lip in giddiness, Louis stares at Harry's face — his nose, his eyes, cheeks, ears, heck even his fringe and the bandage around his head — and he can't help reach out just to cup Harry's cheek and trail his fingertips down his chin. They feel so soft against the pads of his fingers. Harry is so soft it hurts Louis to an undefined extent.

"You're so wonderful, Haz. I can't believe you've fallen for me. You're just too good to be true, do you know that?"

Harry inhales sharply and he thinks his heart might just explode at the words Louis has spoken. Thing with Harry is, he isn't used to having a neutral reaction to words told, what more words softly spoken and lovingly spoken and are directed at him, which wow; most especially he isn't even supposed to react neutrally but rather heartily because damn, this is the boy he loves so much and he's just seriously confessed that he wasn't very much believing that a guy like Harry would fall for someone like him. Like, Harry can't do that.

So, "No, Lou," Harry tells Louis, "I can't, actually, believe that you love me too — that you'd give us a chance despite our former differences. Despite my abnormality once; the line there was between us two. It's you whom is too good to be real, honestly. Always you. And I don't even lie."

Taken over by the flabbergasting sensation, Louis only settles for a shy smile and overwhelmed retaliation as he nuzzles closer to Harry's side, feeling how broad Harry is even just by the arm, his biceps, and he thinks  _hey, Harry is fucking real, is a mortal now, just like him_. He can marry him and be with him for the rest of their lives now and nothing can stop them, no more of that; not their nonexistent differences, not their personality, not the lack of money, nothing. Louis knows too, that if Jay finds out about Harry, she will totally love him, as well as the girls — his sisters. Harry is a doll after all. A natural doll. He can make people fall in love with him with just a bit of kindhearted smiles, optimism and realness. Besides, all about Harry is realness — just all natural and polite.

The night drags on with Louis and Harry just enjoying the company of each other; all smiley, fond sneaky glances, hushed talks and cutesy chaste kisses. By the time Louis' stolen Harry's eighth kiss from him, Harry's eyelids are all heavy and he's sorts of nothing but sweaty and fidgety. Whatever that means. Louis notices that; Harry's sudden lack of antics and counter backs. That has him stopping from giggling like a ditzy hyena.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

Harry looks at Louis and he has this troubled facial expression written all over his face. His red face.

"My... I don't know what this is called, but. It's hurting, Lou," Harry stutters as he looks all the way down in between his thighs. "'Hurts real badly. 'M uncomfortable."

Louis looks down at where Harry is looking, and he sees that Harry's cock is visibly twitched upright. Louis immediately smirks. "Oh, you silly, that's just normal. It's called 'erection', babe. Ha-ha — I almost forgot that you can feel things now; your brain functions accordingly, is what it's meant. This is great, now we can have sex."

"Have sex," Harry repeats as he looks around for no reason, fish-mouthing ludicrously. "Erection," he murmurs. Confused, Harry gives Louis a quizzical look. "Why am I having this erection? And having sex isn't bad, is jt?"

Louis shakes his head, grinning madly. "Sex is good, Harry. And you're having an erection, probably because we're all over each other and that you have that sorta keen in me. You want us to get it on."

"Get what on?" Harry asks curiously.

"Oh, you know," Louis says, feigning nonchalance and normality, "touching each other in a much intimate way, inappropriately, not just kissing or cuddling, but eating each other out and all that —"

"Wait," Harry cuts through, eyes wide. "Eat? You mean, eat? The chewing thing and swallowing?"

"Swallowing," Louis laments slowly, licking his lips in the process. He hums considerably. "Hmm... I like that term. But yeah, it's partly about swallowing. Not the chewing part though, unless you want to kill me by literally eating me, then that might as well apply to us getting it on."

Harry looks lost. Harry  _is_ lost.

Sighing albeit dreamily, Louis shots up from his spot and sits, facing Harry in an Indian sit. Harry dazedly follows suit, feeling rather turned on without him knowing exactly that  _that_ is what exactly he is feeling. Faced to Harry completely, Louis doesn't waste another moment and just grabs on Harry's bulge, all well-experienced and dominant, reduced to his Doctor-y self.

Harry gasps as his dick hardens even more at the touch, his breath hitching against his throat, and his eyes as wide as legit golf balls. "Oh... oh," Harry hisses.

"It's okay, babe," Louis murmurs, attention all directed toward how damn hard Harry is right now. "Wow, you've got one big... cock, sunshine." Looking up to meet Harry's gaze, Louis licks his lips and says, "You really are perfect, aren't you?"

Harry shakes his head, biting his lip. "I... I don't think so, no. But Louis... I don't — I don't know what I'll do with this erection."

Taking his hands off Harry's bulge, Louis shrugs and simply says, "Well, I can suck you off right here and now if you want me to. So that stuff eases down."

Harry's eyebrows raise, expression so innocent and ignorant. Like the newborn he is, yes. "Please do. I want it to tone down. Whatever suck off means, if you may, please do. Just — I don't want this thing here. Looks awkward."

Louis giggles, feeling giddy and at the same time very turned on.  _Whatever sucking off someone else's dick means_ , Harry's just practically said. Louis can only laugh at that. He thinks it's by far the weakest and funniest thing he's ever heard in a while. Harry doesn't know what he's gotten himself into, probably, because the deal here is Louis' fucking gold at giving heads, so he pretty much knows just how Harry will be taking his first ever blowjob once-over since he's decidedly walked on earth.

Louis pulls off a smirk that resembles a demon without actually intending to, ironically so.

Palming Harry's ever hardening cock against the fabric of his trousers, Louis bites on the inside of his cheek as he thinks about all the things he can do to Harry, now that he's at it. And clearly dazed from being so incredibly turned on perhaps, Louis renders a shiver all the way from Harry's end, his hand on his crotch continually doing its own thing. On the mild rubs Louis is offering Harry at the moment, for some reason, summons up a very different side of Harry all the sudden. He's gone to sit and look at Louis deadly in the eye, mouth agape slightly and gaze hooded.

And Harry surges forward and flips them both, making himself on top, straddling Louis' hips in the process and locking him up in his arms. Harry goes all dominant and earnest out of the damn sudden, very much craving for what Louis knows is sex; having sex; sexual intercourse with a human being like Louis. His soon to be first.

It's pleasing to the mind.

"Whoa! Easy, tiger," Louis guffaws as he lets Harry put half of his weight on top of him, chuckling and feeling so happy and aroused. The fact that Harry can manhandle him just like this is making him horny and just as hard in no time. Louis has always been one to manhandle when it comes to having sex, but now it's Harry who is doing the same thing to him and, wow, does Harry look so impeccably hot right now — Louis thinks he's never loved the feeling of dominance this time applied to him, ever. Just this, when Harry's walked into his life.

Harry doesn't acknowledge Louis' wriggling and shaking as is, stills his body on top of Louis and lets their groins rub against each other. Harry must think it's the only way to ease down his erection, and so it's what he's doing right now. Louis bites on his lower lip as he gazes at Harry, whose eyes closed in bliss and lips parted, letting out soft sweet moans with each thrust.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Lou, but it feels great," Harry moans out.

Louis giggles. "It's called grinding, babe."

Harry opens his eyes and looks down on Louis underneath him. "Grinding," he laments, "this is nice. Grinding is nice."

"Mhm, yeah," Louis hums as he reaches out to snake his arms around Harry's neck and pulls him down against him for lack of space. Harry allows Louis to do just that and once they're very close to each other, Louis kisses Harry open-mouthed, licking in and sucking on his tongue and teeth.

Harry's breath catches on his throat and Louis smirks against their kiss having heard that, making him break it for a mere second to say something. But then Harry is pulling him down again and it makes him shut up, Harry parting his lips open and letting out his spit-slick tongue, tugging right in between Louis' closed mouth. Louis lets him have it, because really, how can he say no to the man he loves?

After some time of nothing but making out, Louis eventually breaks it for the second time around and, unsurprisingly, that makes Harry produce a sound of protest. Apparently, he loves Louis' taste against his tongue so bad it's a big loss for him to say the least. Louis pants as he pushes Harry by the shoulders to have them both sitting up, and Harry isn't even doing the same trouble from breathing — like he's actually looking rather collected despite their wild snogging.

"Let's..." Louis breathes out — squeaks out, really, looking red and messed, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Harry's going to be the reason for his death. "Let's go to my room, yeah? Shag and get a move on with all this, huh?"

Harry nods his head, Bambi-eyed and a full mess, not sure what he's gotten himself into probably yet again the moment he's agreed. Louis manages to smile, lips quivering. Standing up first, Louis offers a hand to Harry and Harry takes it willingly (like if Louis' some kind of a serial killer, Harry would probably die with no vengeance whatsoever, because he's so innocent and unknowing that he agrees to all Louis is telling or making him do) (so submissive, he is) (Louis' so gonna take care of him). Harry is like this type of someone who takes Louis' hand and agreeing with him to shag, even when technically he doesn't know that 'shag' actually means 'having sex', and that it will hurt, probably, what with it'll be Harry's first time and all (Louis will fuck him and he doesn't even have a damn single clue about how it's about happening in any moment now,  _how naïve_ ) and like, this is Louis, Louis who's about to raise his flag of victory because fuck.

Whatever. They both go to Louis' room and without further ado, Louis does his thing, not even giving Harry a chance to either say no or to turn away.

Despite the narrowness of Louis' single bed, he manages to take Harry by the collar of his shirt and lead him toward it followed by him, the both of them flopping down on it and fitting together. Louis kisses Harry again, harder this time, hungrier, eager, until he finally opts for taking Harry's never changing clothes off him once and for damn all — Louis' never seen Harry out of these tux and tie, which, what the fuck? Louis wants to see him wear other clothes even just for once. Right now though, Louis wants to see him naked, so. Yeah, definitely that. Right here, right now. Right in front of him, before him, all flushed scarlet from throat down to neck and hair disheveled, panting and all out blown eyed dilated.

Louis wants Harry now. He wants him now.

"C'mon, Harry," Louis pants as he kisses Harry's neck and jaw line. "Take you,"  _kiss_ , "trousers off," another kiss, "for me, babe. C'mon now."

Harry obeys willingly as he arches his back — still letting Louis kiss him all over in the process — and pushes off his trousers without a problem. Louis stops peppering him with kisses and sits back to come and stare at his almost naked posture. Harry's just wearing some plain white briefs under his trousers, Louis notes, and not even some boxer shorts to cover up his bulge, obviously for a lack of obscenity, and — and boy does Louis find this news rather interesting. Snickering mostly to himself, Louis supposes he now knows how real-life angels look without a piece of fabric cloaking their inhibitions. Also, he realizes only now he's just about fucking a real-life angel too. Hah!

Well, 'was' a real-life angel really, but. Louis thinks it still counts. Yep, certainly.

Shyly lowering his gaze as he bites on his lip, Harry mumbles under his breath, conceivably feeling uneasy and thoroughly exposed. "Is this okay, Lou? I've never really taken off my pants before. Ever. In my entity." And that, perhaps, is the reason for his vulnerability.

Blowing a dreamy sigh, Louis only nods his yes, and then says genuinely, "You're perfect, Harry. Cute. Very pretty too, actually. All of the compliment there is."

Harry blushes beet red, nuzzling to Louis' neck to hide his face. He doesn't know he's supposed to feel embarrassed when naked like this, doesn't know he's supposed to feel so shy and exposed when he's naked and at the same time being praised. Louis thinks it's adorable.

Taking Harry's clothes all scattered on the ground to account, Louis begins to undress himself too, taking the time to pull off his jumper over his head and push down his skinny jeans off his thighs and legs, until he's left with nothing but his navy blue boxer shorts. Harry openly gapes at him, jaw dropped and eyes glossy as fuck. Apparently he's getting hard again just being able to gaze at Louis all naked and beautiful like this.

"You're like an angel, Lou," Harry whispers, sounding in awe.

"Why thank you, dear Harold. You're not bad yourself. So fit, you are."

And Harry can't seem to contain himself any longer. He practically lunges forward and grabs Louis by the waists, large hands pulling him down so he's settled on top of him again, their lips smashing against each other, teeth clashing. Louis' fang stabbing Harry's corner of the lips, making him wince at the scorching minimal contact.

Louis winces too as he laughs, finding every little thing about now preposterous yet frustratingly exhilarating. "God, I love you so fucking much, Hazza."

Harry laughs along, shoulders shaking and cheeks red. "I love you too, Lou."

~

The next morning, Louis doesn't wake up alone, all by himself and missing someone with an aching heart. Instead he wakes up next to the fallen angel he loves, has fallen deeply in love with — who now is a human and is capable of loving him back (already loves him back) — making him smile his winning smile.  _This is Louis' life now_. And the fact that Harry is all open-mouthed and snoring, gloriously naked — milky torso exposed, limply lying next to him while simultaneously reminding him of last night's events — makes Louis bite around a giddy morning grin. Louis can't possibly be any more embarrassingly smitten with his boyfriend.

Time passes and Louis doesn't ever dare to wake Harry up. He just lets him sleep all he wants. And until Harry wakes up then that Louis greets him with soft chaste kisses, murmuring  _good morning_ and an offer of some breakfast. Chinese takeaways. Hah. Since Louis can't cook for shit. He'll spare their taste buds, thank you very much.

At half past twelve, after they've eaten, Louis and Harry sit on the couch by the company of the idly running telly in the background, volume minimized to 12 in courtesy of Louis.

They talk about a lot of things — those that matter, mostly — i.e. if Harry's already getting used to being human. From feeling things to getting famished, from feeling sticky to his skin to having an erection and loving. Whether Harry misses his home from up there or if he misses his wings and being able to fly, the incredible eye vision, the like. If Harry can still speak to animals, if he can still read Louis' thoughts, if he can still see the past or that if he can still understand all sorts of language.

Granted that Harry is still getting used to being human, he admits of missing home, although Louis is his home now, since all his entire life he'd been there. And Louis understands that, sympathizes for him. They cuddle on the sofa, and Harry proceeds. He tells Louis he misses flying, his wings, but that's alright as long as he's with Louis. Sadly, Harry can't speak to the animals anymore, can't understand them and no, he can't read what's running inside Louis' mind no more as well, can't see the past and can't understand all sorts of language any longer. But then again, that's all cool with Harry — so long as he's got Louis, he'll be happy and fine. That's all that matters.

"I've got you, Louis. Meant I've got everything I need."

Louis kisses Harry's cheek, and then smiles against it. "Me too, my love," he whispers. "Me too. I'm sorry you had to give everything up just to be with me."

"Don't be," Harry chastises, only lightly, cupping Louis' face and bringing their lips together for a kiss. "It was my choice, Louis. And it will always be you. In the end, it'll always be you that I'll settle for."

Smiling, Louis bops Harry's nose with his. "Mhm. Got you, babe. For the record though, I want you to know I would've done the same foolish thing. I wouldn't stand a chance after all."

Harry grins as does Louis.

~

Louis' decided they should shower together. Harry is pretty excited about it. After checking to see if Harry's wound is already okay to have a bit of cleansing under the spray, it is just then that they both realize Harry needs a bunch of clothes from now on. Heck, he needs a lot actually, not just clothes. His basic necessities as well, tooth brush, deodorant, shaving equipments, shoes and all that stuff.

How come Louis didn't see that coming?

Another thing is, Harry's going to have to eventually work. Louis can't support the two of them, especially now that he has no job again; the clinic being sold out, and that he's got four sisters and a mother to somehow manage.

Well, good thing Louis still has at least half a million in his bank account, otherwise they'll be doomed. Jeez.

Facing Harry, Louis tells him they should run some errand tomorrow first thing in the morning. Harry has no idea what that means exactly, but he nods in agreement anyway, taking the clothes Louis is handing over to him. They're small, will probably be fitted on Harry's larger frame, but. They have no other choice but to stick to it. Besides, it's only for one night, so.

They shower then. And Louis is the most enthralled man in the planet on the duration of it. Harry can't stop touching him.

~

Haven't got any visits from neither Ashton nor Cara, yet another day has passed since Harry's returned and both Louis and Harry go to Tesco as well as stopping by at some nearest mall there is Louis has come to know over the months he's stepped a foot in this side of the town. To run an errand, is what they do, one of which they've discussed just last night.

From buying Harry's basic necessities to buying him some clothes Louis thinks suit him well, the next thing they do is move on to buying some foods and beverages Louis decide he should stock in his fridge for their later on needs. Yes,  _their_. He and Harry are one now, he's afraid. Even the bruise on the corner of Harry's lips says so — a territorial mark Louis has given him back when they've showered again this morning.

Anyway. Louis buys Harry some shoes, has let him pick whichever satisfied his taste ("Why boots, Harold? Serously?" Louis raises an eyebrow. Biting his lip innocently, Harry reasons out calmly, "Well, because they're lovely, Lou. They warm my feet when they clad them. Plus, wearing them adds up some feminine effect to my body." Shaking his head rather fondly, Louis can only tip toe to kiss Harry on the mouth and murmur against their lips, "Whatever you say, babe," making the sales clerk snicker in delight. "You both are such a cute couple, sir," she whispers to Louis before handing over their purchased boots, "and both attractively fit too," she adds in, making Louis snort. He's feeling inexplicably proud, however), swiping his credit card over and over again.

Their day ends with cones of chocolate ice creams. And then Louis drives them back to his flat a tad bit later on, just when the sun is about setting.

Scooping up all their grocery bags from the trunk of Louis' car and taking them in the flat, Harry and Louis stumble and duck as they kiss silly while they lodge themselves by the gates and up the front porch of Louis' door to his flat. Louis struggles to reach out for his keys in his back pockets since Harry's got him all tingly, nipping hungrily on the corner of his mouth, right shoe slipping off his foot just when Harry's accidentally stepped on it. Louis giggles. "I'm just — 'gonna unlock — door, Haz." Another round of giggles. " _Haz_!"

Harry only hums in response, dropping the bags on the ground and taking Louis by the arse and hoisting him up off the ground, pressing their bodies firmly, chests flushed and so are their groins. Louis lets out a loud gasp as he loses balance, immediately sliding down against Harry's front as he's not able to cling because of the suddenness. "Easy, baby," Louis muses between chuckles, the sides of his eyes crinkling as he does, fangs flashing as he laughs. His cheeks are on fire, and his heart is beating so incredibly fast with how shocked he's been. Harry's insane.

"Can't wait," Harry growls, voice low and serious. Lusty. And there is that.

Louis stares at him, jaws hanging open. And he blinks, just when he notices himself doing just that. "Okay, fuck. Okay," he says breathily. "Just — calm down, tiger." Fishing out the keys in his back pocket, Louis unlocks the door to his flat and just like that, Harry's lunging on him once again even before they can get in, pressing their bodies together and kissing him desperately. Louis groans under the sheer pleasure he's receiving while Harry simultaneously seems to give, give, and give.

They both stumble inside the flat itself, grocery bags poorly abandoned outside, bums and backs bumping against each spot of the walls along the hallway, the two of them devouring one another.

Harry is just about undressing Louis when a clearing of someone's throat tears them apart from passionately snogging.

Louis snaps out of it (as in his sex-haze stupor) as soon as he's looked over to the direction of the living room and spots Cara and Ashton standing there, Cara dangling a duplicate key around her index finger, Aston biting back what seems to be a massive grin across his face. And would you look at that. They both look good if Louis' honest, his best mates. Ashton's got this "punk rock look" as they call it, an inside banter of their own, and his curls have gone longer and sandy blonder this time, noticeably so. He isn't wearing his glasses just like Louis is, and that makes him look hotter by 10x. Well, it's not that Louis' checking the kid out, but. Ashton Irwin is one attractive lad, so sue him. Cara on the other hand is gorgeous as ever, surely, and unlike the last time she's become more into boyish looks now, like snapbacks and loose tee shirts, dark ripped skinny jeans and leather jackets, converse boots, the like. Her blonde hair falls freely straight down to her shoulders and she suddenly reminds Louis of a late Avril Lavingne in her teenaged days. Wicked awesome.

"Lou..." Harry mumbles shyly, stealing Louis' attention in an instant, and — fuck. Louis also suddenly feels so fucking embarrassed right now. How could he forget? Of course Cara has a key to his flat. She could've surprised him, even without his consent, like this.

 _Just like this_. Well, fuck.

Clearing her throat yet again, Cara raises an eyebrow this time, blue eyes glinted of mischief. Louis and Harry finally move from their awkward spots then because of that, Louis letting out chokes and Harry straightening up. "Oh, hey... guys?" Louis mutters out, scrunching up his nose and rather feeling awkward, face burning hot and eyes squinting in utter shame. (He has shame after all, can you believe it?) (Yep, Louis can't either.)

Cara, from raising one of her perfectly trimmed thick eyebrows in a demanding way, eases down and finally smiles fondly at Louis, and then a little bit at Harry. "So, Lou," she begins, making Harry and Louis stir nervously, "mind if you tell me and Ashton about this stranger? I've given him a ride with my Cadi once and that was it."

"Uh... right," Louis answers sheepishly as he shrugs, looking from Cara, and then to Ashton, "okay, sure. Uhm, how about we... have a cuppa or something while we talk about this one?"

Ashton beams. "Hell yes! I missed your teas! Teas in Australia make me nostalgic about yours. Hah."

"Tea it is then. And perhaps dinner?" Cara says suggestively, smirking knowingly.

Louis smirks back at Cara, says, "Deal," while Harry and Ashton nod politely at each other in acknowledgement. Louis hopes everything goes well.

~

It takes them at least three large bites out of their meals before finally opting upon interrogating Louis about Harry, these guests, Cara and Ashton.

"Where does he live?"

"Where did he go to uni?"

"When did he graduate? Which batch? Is he the same batch as us?" That one's Cara.

"Is he American? Swedish? British?" Ashton shoots.

"What is his job right now, Lou?" Cara again, because if there's anyone who cares for Louis' future and being other than his family, it's her.

"Who's older between the two of you then?"

"Is he still a virgin?" Ashton grins after he's asked it.

"Of course not, you goof!" exclaims Louis, face beet red.

"But—"

"God. Didn't you see how they kissed when we caught them, Ash?"

"Oh. Right."

"So are you together?"

"Is Louis being bad to you?"

"Guys!" Alas, Louis' finally burst.

Cara and Ashton blink at him and shut their mouths, and it's perfectly in sync that Louis wants to cry in laughter from it, actually. But he doesn't anyway, what with the matter at hand. There are such things that matter more than that chorused movement as of the moment.

Chancing a glance at Harry next to him, Louis sees Harry with his green eyes widened well, probably in utter amusement. Sure he's seen Ashton and Cara before already — in a daily basis even — but never once had he encountered them like this. Cara and Ashton are capable of seeing him now unlike then, are looking at him quizzically, plausibly judging him in their minds already as a human being, as their best mate's lover, as a normal person having dinner with them and having cuppas with them, that and all.

Harry's never really met them yet. Really. Not once.

"So," Louis starts, determined to offer some groundbreaking clarifications, "Harry, again, is his name, yeah?"

Cara and Ashton nod. Louis' eyes trail to when Cara picks up her mug and drink from it. Louis hums. "Remember that one time, you guys, when I told you about a Harry from, say, months ago? The one who appeared and disappeared in my clinic?"

Cara and Ashton look at each other as they puzzle. Louis explains it to them then, recalling all the happenings from the past; from when Cara and Louis argued that one morning when they talked about this mystical man, Harry, that one who could speak to dogs, that one who spoke to Billy, that one who disappeared; from when Cara had insisted that maybe, just maybe, this Harry kid had just fucked with Louis' head and that he wasn't actually real, was just a figment of Louis' imagination at the time being since he'd been single for such a long, long time then.

After Louis' explanation, Cara looks as though she's finally understanding everything now — so as Ashton — and so they ask, almost hesitantly now, "By chance, Lou... was he human before or some sort of..."

Louis shakes his head. He reaches from under the table for Harry's hand and squeezes at it. "Harry, he used to be a..." He trails off for a sec, looking at his mates and meeting their gazes. Cara has this look of curiosity plastered all over her face, eyebrows creased and lips pursed, while Ashton looks nothing but oblivious, as usual. Louis sighs. He looks at Harry then, and Harry, bless him, nods at Louis in encouragement. "Erm. So, uh... Harry used to be a fallen angel. Sadly, we can't prove it to you now, since he isn't one anymore, because Harry's become human."

Expecting to see them disbelieving this kind of matter, surprisingly so, Cara looks rather convinced instead of the supposed opposite. Well, not half as convinced as Ashton though, but. Yeah. The two stare at Harry as if examining him just from the angle they can calculate, sinking in the fact that angels look just like Harry.

"He was the reason for the boxes of pizza," Ashton states after a while, amusement in his voice.

"And he was the reason you've been down these past few months, yeah?" Cara asks, pointing a finger at Louis. "Did you guys like, fight or something? I mean, I can't see him — only you can, weirdly so — and like, God knows if you two were at it and that entire sort."

Harry looks at Louis in concern and rubs at the skin beneath his palms with the pad of his thumb, frowning. Harry doesn't want to think it but he has no choice.

"Yes," Louis whispers at last after a minute of silence. "He... disappeared."

"Right," Cara mutters, averting her gaze from Louis to Harry, "and where did you go, Harry?"

Biting his lip and looking at Louis as if to ask for permission, Louis only knows how to nod his agreement. Whatever it is. "Well, you set Louis up with a friend. Zayn."

Cara's face resembles of remembrance. Ashton's as well.

"But — but Louis didn't go out with Zayn though," Cara says in clarification, "he — he dumped Zayn. And then he started talking about an angel. It's you, Harry."

Harry shakes his head, smiling fondly. "I didn't leave because I was mad, Cara, so don't worry about that. Also, I didn't leave because I wanted to. I didn't have a choice — I vanished in the midst of my departure."

"What?" Ashton quizzes. "Where did you go then? I — I mean..." he trails off, once wildly gesturing hands limping.

"I just found myself at limbo."

"Limbo?" Louis, Cara and Ashton ask at the same time.

Harry nods. "My other Angelus friends summoned me. To complete a task. I had to save a thousand lives while I was away. From various countries. And it took me four and half months, human time, before completing it."

Louis thinks this through. So Harry had saved lives... That explains it. Maybe he was granted mortality because of that task.

"Okay, okay," Ashton says, "human time, saving lives... Wow, this is like, really cool and all, but. How did you become a human? You were an angel, you say, and then now you're a human? How?"

Harry looks at Louis again, smiling brightly this time. " _He_  granted my wish, I guess. I've been in love with Louis for quite some time, you see, and I've left him without warning him, so I tried to find him again just right after I finished my task. Just like that. But then when I returned, the clinic had already been converted into a bakery — which had brought me to your old flat that wasn't containing the three of you anymore to my surprise — these things that made me all out devastated. At the top of some construction site,  _He_  spoke to me and made a deal with me.  _He_ said  _He_  will turn me into one of you people in exchange of not regretting a single thing."

"Well, aren't you?" Louis mumbles.

Harry takes his hands in his and kisses his knuckles. "No. Not a single thing, no."

Louis blushes hard as he stares right into Harry's pair of deep green eyes. They're the loveliest pair, he decides, the best he's ever looked right into. "Me too," Louis tells him with a smile.

(And until Cara clears her throat do they all go back to discussing, Harry a little tad bit shaken and Louis just rolling his eyes in a playful way.)

Harry tells them about the story of how he'd saved thousands of lives then, to which Ashton and Louis have taken a huge interest in, and Louis on the other hand tells them about those cat videos he's been watching these past few days while they savor their dinner. Cara drops her two cents to reveal her sex life with Rita, and Ashton confesses he may or may not have a thing for his mate, Luke.

It's an eventful night filled with revelations between best friends.

~

At night in the living room, Harry and Louis lay sprawled side by side on the purple furry carpet with the fireplace switched on before them, cool evening breeze easing a little while they stare yet again at the high ceiling with the small chandelier hanging from above.

Harry faces Louis after a while, tucks his face between Louis' chin and shoulder, his lips brushing every now and again against Louis' neck; Louis caresses Harry's right cheek with his hand as retaliation, pressing soft kisses on his temple and forehead as they talk about nothing and everything.

They both fall asleep after quite some time in between ten and eleven.

~

When Harry wakes up, the first thing he sees is Louis next to him, watching him and smiling at him.

"Morning," Louis greets with a soft brush of lips against his hair.

Harry hums sweetly in response.

"Breakfast?"

"Breakfast, yes. Please."

"Okay, just you wait there."

Louis scurries up to his feet and shuffles toward the kitchen. Harry sees him filling the kettle of tap water and then afterwards boiling it. Harry waits patiently at the carpet just as told.

While Louis cooks them bacon and egg, sings to the lyrics of  _Violet Hill_ by Coldplay, Harry happily listens to him doing just those, loves the feeling of being loved and being in love.

Everything seems peaceful. Almost the same as being in heaven, really. Harry can totally get used to this. If only they have forever.

Nodding his head and trying to cope with the unfamiliar tune Louis is humming into, Harry closes his eyes and hums along. And then, "I can feel you, Michael. No need to watch me like that, my brother." Harry snaps his eyes open and glares at Michael from across the room.

"Hello!" Michael grins. He's still wearing the same armor from the last time they've met, his bow and arrows safely secured in his shoulders and back, green hair still the same; he is sitting elegantly at the rocking chair in the corner of the living room, all attention directed to Harry, who's pretty much sleep-disheveled and shirt-rumpled.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asks curiously. "Do I have another assignment? Look at me, Michael, I'm human now, I —"

"No, Harry, calm down," Michael says, cutting him off. "I didn't come here to give you a task."

Harry exhales. "Oh... then what?"

"I just," Michael hesitates.

What? Michael never hesitates. He  _never_.

"What?" Harry asks again, pushing and urging. He can literally hear his own heart tugging loudly against his chest, and he's feeling so nervous about this. "What is it, Michael? Is there a problem? Tell me."

Shaking his head and muttering Lithuanian words, Michael stands up from the rocking chair and paces back and forth. Harry can't understand Lithuanian anymore. Michael notices his fault, so he switches dialect. "I mean, I — I guess I just want to say how happy I am to see that... you're finally settled and happy now. All hot blooded and alive, healthy and loved, cared about and safe."

"Oh." Harry smiles. And all his worries just now instantly faded. "Thank you, Mikey."

"Mikey?" Michael muses, eyes dancing in mischief. "Is that a... nickname?"

Harry nods, beaming. He's grinning widely in record time, and he's positively sure his dimples are both showing.

"Wow. You really are a human now, aren't you?" Michael laments, breaking into a grin as well. If there's any he can go silly with, it's either Harry or Niall, no matter if they don't feel or summat. "Impressive, brother."

"Thanks." Harry laughs.

"Well, I have to go now, Harry. It's nice to see you again!" Michael chirps. Before Harry can even bid his goodbye, Michael has already dissipated.

Louis comes into the picture right after that, carrying a tray of cuppas, two plates of fried bacon and egg, cutlery and a vase of violets.

"Who were you talking with, babe?" Louis asks.

Harry shakes his head. "I, uhm. No one... babe," he lies. Louis only smiles.

And — wow. Apparently, Harry can lie now. That's so human of him.


	16. 0.15 - "The mortals had wanted to stay"

**__ **

**_0.15 || "Never let me go," he whispered._ **

**_***_ **

**_***_ **

Harry holds Louis by the waist, lets himself be held by Louis over the shoulders in return to spin them both in slow circles, just slow, slow, sweet and delicate.

Louis looks at Harry with sparkle in his eyes, a pair of eyes which are glossy and bright, happy, bluer than blue —  _contented_. In love, they are, aren't they? Easy to tell, especially with these two. One can be in the same room as them and they'll right away know. It doesn't take a smart human being to figure that out themselves, besides.

Harry smiles as he leans down just to brush his full lips against Louis' thin ones, sniffing in the floral scent aroma the air around them brings because of the lit candles Louis has all set up from earlier, taking advantage of the slow song in the background all coming from the radio station they are currently tuned in. Louis throws his head back as he barks out a laugh when he gets tickled by Harry's bits of stubble, Harry twirling him around as he does so, their fingertips above them merely touching, the both of them dancing — with fun and less intimacy now than earlier — Harry laughing along at how silly they must look only if other people are seeing them. Doing this; dancing in the hottest of the afternoons in a summer day, right in the kitchen (of all places), with the fridge still open in the area, its cool air coating their topless sweating torsos. It's silly, really, whatever this is they're trying to emit.

"Let's bath, yeah?" Louis asks after some time, after they've stopped laughing.

Harry nods absently, panting himself, shoulders broad and torso flushed and white, all Snow White-y as ever (something Louis' started calling him from when he first realised Harry did look like a Disney princess), all pink-stained cheeks, curls extra curly today, lips parted like the goof he is. And well, Louis finds the view quite remarkable, lovely even, and like, he's mentally in shame again — smitten and dumb.  _Always smitten and dumb_. Lost for Harry, definitely he is right from the start. Snapping out of his reverie, Louis shakes his head as he pulls at Harry's hand and takes them both to the bathroom nearby their room.  _Their room_. And to think that just days ago, Louis has referred to everything in this flat as his own. Only his own. Starting from when Harry has returned though, Louis doesn't own anything here for just only his own. But also Harry's.

The loo itself, as they get in, is already foggy to say the least. There's white steamy smoke coming from all the way the running lukewarm water by the faucet above the tub, filling it and creating soft foamy bubbles from the bubble bath Louis has put minutes prior. The scent it's bringing is making Harry swoon just by smelling it, Louis can almost tell... Well, Louis too, actually, and as though it's getting them drunk, they begin pulling at their boxers down and off them, setting them aside as they climb up the tub one at a time. (Louis lets Harry go first).

As soon as they're settled in and are sitting across each other, Louis closes his eyes to try and relax, think about his family, his mum, sisters, think about how they are now, whether Lottie and Fizzy are doing great with school or not, if the twins are being angels to Jay, and if Jay is still able to cope with them the way she has always been, no trouble at all with them at each time. He hopes that's how things are.

Louis misses his family. And maybe he and Harry will visit them soon. Louis supposes he should give them a call later on and tell them about Harry. Hmm, yeah. Of course. He should do that, really. Besides, it's been months. Months of him without his family.

As if lost in the midst of his thoughts, Louis hasn't realized that he is actually still with Harry in the tub. So he opens his eyes to meet Harry's gaze — Harry's piercing gaze — and it makes him mentally squirm on his spot. Harry has this look on Louis that doesn't stop about just adoring, no, and it's not about admiring either, but rather  _craving_. He's craving Louis. He's craving Louis? Odd. But still, Louis gets excited at that. Only in his mind, at least. The amount of power Harry has on him, incredible that.

They've been friends for three straight months, haven't they? And Harry has never looked at him like that, not the day they met again, neither yesterday nor the day before yesterday, no. If anything, Harry rarely looks at him like that. And the thing is, it's all news to him. If Harry's looked at him with pure lust the other night, well... this one is entirely different. Definitely different. And more... appealing so to say.

Basically, this one is giving him fireworks.

Without a word, Harry moves through the water and urges forward, nudging foams of bubbles along the gesture. When he's just a few inches away from Louis, out of nowhere does he start to smirk. Harry smirked.  _He just smirked_ , Louis thinks. Sure he's seen Harry smile, laugh, bite his lip, lick his lips, frown, cry, chuckle and all that but. But he supposes never the smirk.

Louis sees Harry smirk for the first time in months today and it makes him... hot in the ears, apparently so.

A good sign?

Louis licks his lips idly as he cowers back, not really noticing he's actually doing that as he stares at Harry before him, getting aroused; those beautiful green eyes, those spit-slick red lips, those hollowed rosy cheeks, that sexy nose and god,  _that face_. Harry's whole face. Louis is so going to marry this boy. Sooner rather than later, yes.

As Harry gets closer, he reaches down and dips both his arms under the water. He brackets Louis' hips with his large hands and slips in his thumbs at each side of Louis' briefs, pulling at the stretchable bands only to let them go right as quickly for the gesticulation to create some soft muffled slaps against Louis' golden skin. Tiny bubbles start surfacing at that, making Louis gasp at the kinky action. Harry smirks again. And — what the actual fuck. Harry is being a cheeky bastard. And, like, Louis has to admit he is enjoying this. This side of Harry.

As if they're communicating via eye-contact all the sudden, Harry wiggles his eyebrows at Louis and plays with the bands of his briefs once again, signaling to take them off so maybe they could do something else rather than cleanse and refresh themselves. Yeah, instead of taking a bath.

Like, perhaps have a bit of sex? As if a bit of it would hurt after all... Hmm. Technically, yeah, it would, like totally would hurt, what with they won't be able to use lube since they are underwater and all, but. Yeah, it will still happen, won't it?

So.

Getting the pretty much obvious message Harry is trying to get across, Louis eventually shifts, rolling his hips so Harry can finally take his briefs off, and when Harry does manage, he chucks it away, the thing landing on the sink. Louis laughs at the simple action, his cheeks turning pink, usual pretty wrinkles beside his eyes showing, unfamiliar dimple unexpectedly popping. Harry finds the view quite lovely and just like that, he lunges forward and grabs on Louis' nape, letting their lips meet, eyes closing as soon as he's kissing Louis, hard, hungry for it.

Louis lets out a muffled 'mmphf' as Harry deepens their kiss, using tongue, strong arms engulfing the whole of Louis — the tiny, tiny Louis Tomlinson. (Well, not that tiny, but. Whatever. Harry can manhandle him, so that's that.)

As Louis fights back to the obviously desperate kiss Harry is giving him, his hand starts to touch the bands of Harry's briefs as well, pulling them down, down, and until Harry's retaliating all the sudden to help him take the thing off of him once and for all too. When it's off, Louis wraps his hand around Harry's shaft, pumping it, slowly, slowly, making Harry pull back a bit and stop the kiss, moaning Louis' name and gasping breathlessly. Louis exhales, still pumping Harry's dick, taking in the fact that damn, Harry's so hard and his length... oh, his length. Harry's definitely big. Huge. Louis doesn't think he could ride Harry without leaving scratches across Harry's milky back, without screaming or biting his lip — biting his lip so hard it would bleed — as he lets Harry fuck him in bliss.

Or maybe he should be the one fucking Harry in bliss? Since the former immortal wouldn't know how to do him from behind.

Hmm. But Louis can dominate the sex though, without hurting the poor angel.

Gulping just a little bit too loudly, Louis continues to pump on Harry's dick, fast, fast, rapidly, ignoring the fact that his very own dick is hardening, going slightly numb and painful. After a bit more of giving Harry some intense handjob, Louis finally collects himself and breathes out...or more like squeaks out, "Wanna ride you, Harold. Pretty badly... I —," and he cuts himself off, deciding for the better, since Harry doesn't even seem to know what 'ride' actually means when it comes to getting  _it_  on, and just lets go of Harry's cock to stand up with his slightly already-jelly-legs-out-of-blissfulness and settles on Harry's lap, both legs at either side of Harry's hips. Louis crouches down then, tentatively so, gently for that matter, and until he's holding Harry's dick again as he bends an arm behind him, grasping it upright, lining the head at the rim of his hole, and then...and then just ruefully letting it slide inside of him, finally. It was all too late now once he realizes he's yet not prepped for this, prepared for this on a whole. Fuck.

Harry gasps, his breath hitching against his throat, as the tightness of Louis' rim engulfs his cock, the warmth from the inside giving him an overwhelming feeling — all new experience, that and all. Louis takes a sharp intake of breath, nearly whimpering as he adjusts himself beneath Harry.

See, it's been a while since Louis' got fucked... so it really is fucking painful having it happen to him yet again. Most especially they don't have lube with them and just water and a bit of bubble bath soap itself. It's like suicide to be honest.

"Ngh," Harry lets out after a while as Louis clings onto his shoulders and neck, "Louis... ah."

Louis gulps again, feeling rather uncomfortable all the sudden, his fringe damp against his forehead, eyes a bit teary, cheeks and throat fully red now. "I, uhm... this is what riding means, Harry... I'm — I'm going fast now."

Harry nods, he just nods, because he doesn't know what ride means. Still.

So taking that into account, Louis rides him then, holding tightly on each his shoulder and rocking himself up and down Harry — his hole just taking in and out Harry's hard and thick cock, his prostate getting hit at each push he does. Up and down, up and down, up and down Louis goes, throwing his head back a bit as he grunts lowly, taking the pain and the pleasure all the same. Harry holds him on the waists, carrying his weight as he moves ever so hastily on his lap; he winces, feeling Louis' nails digging against the flesh on his back, leaving flushed sex marks.

Not able to do anything with his hands, Harry makes a grab on Louis' waists to steady him while he moves expertly. Louis carries on at that, looking down on Harry underneath him. His eyes have gone dark, eyebrows creased into downright exhilaration, chest heaving up and forth. Harry looks absolutely beautiful turning red like this.

After a few more shoves, Louis holds on tighter at Harry as he feels the tip of his own untouched cock getting loaded.

"Coming," Louis pants as he lets more thrusts come and go, voice breaking at every syllable, mouth open and gaze blurring. He doesn't think he'll make it any further. "I'm close to climax, Harold. I'm — uh, uh —"

Harry breathes out, voice deep and rumbling low, "Yeah — oh, me — too. P-probably — ooh —"  _Probably. Oh, fuck. Such a learner_.

Louis leans in, catching Harry's lips and kissing him, hard just because, licking a stripe across Harry's lips and up to his snout, leaving bits of spit as it goes. It sure is messy, but Louis gives no fuck about that, pun fully intended. "Listen, Haz," Louis murmurs, his voice shaky, "I love you...so much."

Harry blinks, his vision going blurry as Louis drives him crazy and wild, lustful and horny. Hah. First cockride and all. "I love you so much more, Lou... more than you'll ever know. I can't ever live without you." Right, right now isn't a good time, but.

But Louis' heart swells because of that anyway, his eyes watering, lips forming a happy smile. He can feel Harry's dick hitting his prostate and it feels fucking great. So, so damn great.

And then... he comes, he finally comes, white semen splattering from under the water, going along the waves they are creating as they fuck. Louis stops moving after coming and he just rests his head at the crook of Harry's neck, his breathing slowing down as he tries ruefully to calm himself down. Just as he's done feeling limp, he remembers that Harry hasn't come yet and Louis thinks it's just fair that they both come. So he frees Harry's cock from inside him and kneels in between Harry's thighs and legs, taking his cock in his mouth right away, not wasting any second. Harry shivers before him, holding onto the tub and desperately trying not to completely lie down right there and then as he feels so high — so high because of so much Louis...so much love and  _Louis_.

Louis sucks Harry off, fast, well-experienced, the tip of Harry's cock head reaching the back of his throat, making him gag. But Louis continues on, despite himself, and then — and then Harry finally, finally comes; warm, sticky white semen scattered all over Louis' mouth and back of the throat, leaving him no other choice but to swallow it, taste and savor it. Louis doesn't complain though, doesn't really care, in fact he might actually like some more of it...every day. Shit, he's so fucked for Harry. Him and Harry, every day is what he desires; the taste of Harry, his lips, his come, his dick, his tongue; just, all of Harry... Louis wants that every day.

"You okay there, baby?" Louis asks Harry after a while, his throat going dry, voice sounding hoarse as he strokes Harry's flushed pink face with his shaky hand.

Harry nods, biting his lip and licking on it. "Yes," he says, breathy, "I am."

"Good," Louis says. And they kiss again, tasting each other with their dicks going hard again as they sit flushed, skin slapping as they keep each other not an inch away.

After some time, Harry stands up, taking Louis by surprise — like utter surprise — when he announces he wants to ride Louis next, not just to be fair, but because he wants the experience, like he loves Louis very much enough to risk himself getting hurt as well, which okay...okay then. Louis lets him, spreading his legs apart and making room for Harry to sit on his lap. On his dick.

And there goes round two for them.

***

After about another six more rounds in the loo, all happy, just-fucked, and most definitely freshened and cleaned Harry and Louis, at last come out of it and go straight into their  _now_ bedroom that was Louis' former own, and refrain from continuing kissing and actually choosing to dress nicely — nicely because they're about to go somewhere that is decidedly nice as well, that is — where: they don't know yet but, whatever. They're going out on a date, is the deal here, so.

It's Louis' idea. He decides he wants to take Harry out in one, like, to properly date him, know more about him, discover new things about him and tour him around — teach him how to eat shawarma, tacos, peel a banana, bite on an apple, drink some boozers, red wine or some cocktail; those sorts.

Settling on some black pants and white tank top, Louis lets Harry pick some clothes for himself as well, stepping aside from the cabinet and starting to get dressed. While Harry racks the cabinet full of their mixed clothes, Louis goes to his desk and pulls at the drawers underneath it, searching for his maroon beanie. Just as he's done wearing the beanie and fixing his hair from under it, Louis turns around to finally check up on Harry, see what he's chosen to wear for this date.

So as it turns out, Harry chooses to wear some tight, tight black skinny jeans, ripped at the knees part, and some black tee, hugging his biceps from the upper arm part, his hard chest flushed against the fabric; and Louis is watching, just watching him dress, carefully smoothing the shirt over milky skin.

Just when Louis thinks Harry's done with the outfit he's chosen, he realizes he's thought wrong, because Harry is leaning down again, going for the faded maroon plaid shirt over the bed, taking it and wearing it over his black tee.

Well.

Louis is rather...impressed, he must admit, at the turnout. While Harry looks like...some Indie 60's Hipster kid, all ready for some gig, for some guitar strumming in a band, make girls swoon for him as he sings something...well, something Indie Rock or some shite like that, Louis still finds it in himself to give Harry the credit of being remarkably, impossibly hot. As ludicrous as that has sounded in his head, mind. He may or may not want to fuck him again and some more. But, like, that would be inappropriately unnecessary for now though, wouldn't it?

Louis snaps out of his thoughts when Harry stands close to him, smiling down at him and reaching for his hand, entwining their fingers. "Is this okay, Lou?" Harry whispers against his ear.

Louis breathes in, and he smells Harry's sweet scent, the shampoo and bubble bath from earlier and a mixture of his own body fragrance, and Louis thinks fuck. Tiptoeing, Louis presses his lips against Harry's open mouth, startling Harry at the action. Though eventually, Harry kisses him back, just softly, humming in appreciation.

"You look really, really great, Haz," Louis says truthfully after a while. "Where did you learn how to dress like some smoking hot Hipster dude, huh? Have you been watching telly? Or were you using my laptop and google stuffs?"

As expected, Harry looks confused, lost.

Louis rolls his eyes as a never-mind.

"Uhm, right. I should brush my hair then," Harry says as Louis walks to where his shoes are sprawled messily by the side of the door.

"Yeah, okay," Louis says, taking his black Vans, "and just go pick a pair of shoes here; those that we bought from the mall the other day."

"Mhm."

When Louis' done wearing his shoes, he looks up to see Harry again, and then—

— Well.  _Well_.

"Harry, what did you do to your hair?" Louis asks, aghast.

"Hmm?" Harry whips around and looks at Louis properly, his right hand holding an orange comb. "Why? Don't you like my hair...uhm, 'brushed up'?"

Louis' mouth dries and like, he can't. Holy fuck. Why is this happening to Louis, really? Mortals can't just...like, deserve some fucking fallen angels falling for them, alright? Harry is smoking hot. Louis doesn't think he can handle him. Not well, at least.

"I, yeah, Haz... uh, it's, uh, actually called 'quiff'," Louis stutters, feeling his cheeks heat up, his lips probably parted as he's in awe with how Harry looks right now. "You look... stunning, Harry, god—"

"Isn't this a good thing, though? Should I redo it—"

"No, Haz," Louis cuts him off, waving his hands as he talks, "that's...that's wonderful, Harry, really. Please don't change it. I, uh — I would love to hold your hand out in the streets and let people know how I own such gorgeous boyfriend. Thank you, that'll be really awesome." Louis grins.

Harry grins back, all dimples and white teeth, eyes greener and bright.

Louis thinks he might just die now. How he got so lucky, he actually doesn't know.

It's barely late in the afternoon by the time Harry and Louis make it to Rosso — this so-called restaurant Louis has always wanted to bring someone at (a special someone, that is) — and Louis parks the car somewhere near the curb right in front of it. As they get in and settle, they start up by ordering some drinks and appetizers; Louis goes for some seafood and Harry goes for some sweetcorn. Louis tells Harry about what to order best in the said restaurant, about which is more delicious, phenomenal, and worthy of their minimal budget.

And so that is it; Harry orders whichever Louis suggests is the best. By the time the food comes, they've down their second half-full of red wine already, laughing and giggling as they listen to the sereneness and harmony of the ballad music that is swimming around Rosso, pretty much giddy and happy.

"About time," Louis says as the waitress places their plates of food in front of them, rubbing his palms together in anticipation.

"Mmm," Harry says as reaction, sniffing the aroma of the buttered chicken and prawns, settling down the glass of wine he's been drinking for the past minutes. "Smells good."

Louis grins at him with that. And then they start eating.

As the afternoon drags on and they're done with eating, done savoring their meal, they're finally ready to leave — (Louis stashes the bottle of wine) — after Louis has paid, that is. That given, they stand up from their seats, still giggling, a bit drunk and hazy from the wine they've drank, and then they go out the restaurant. At the curb where Louis has parked their car, they're glad to see that no other car has yet to block their way out of the parking spot. Which, is a relief, totally.

So Louis drives them both off the curb, turning to his left to go to the nearest church he knows. Harry suggests they should visit  _Him_  and thank  _Him_  for all  _He's_  done for the two of them — now that they're seriously damn happy with each other and contented, all thanks to Him — for making Harry a mortal and letting him love Louis in the way he can.

While Louis leaves the bottle of wine at the backseat of his car, he and Harry stroll toward the church and they quiet down with the hushed quick murmurs as soon as they get in. They don't talk as they settle to sit on one of the many long wooden benches inside the church, their attentions directed to the altar and mesmerizing paintings all over the walls of the marvelous church. Watching in fascination, Louis finds himself doing just that as he blinks, mouth agape, his gaze stuck to Harry. A praying Harry, eyes closed, body a steady posture, and mouth opening and closing while he mumbles prayers under his breath; prayers that he's memorized over the centuries he was an angel.  _Imagine that._

Closing his eyes, Louis joins Harry with praying... and he thanks the Lord for all the good things that are happening to his life now. Now that Harry's with him and now that he's finally had a way of living. And it's with this former angel who has fallen madly in love with him. Louis can't ask for any better thing anymore.

*******

"Can you still count the stars from where we are, Hazza?" Louis asks as he shifts from where he's sitting atop the hood of their car, taking a swig from the wine he's snitched from Rosso earlier.

It's about 8 in the evening now, the sun has set about some hours ago. They're at the top of some hill right now; some hill Louis had accidentally bypassed while they were only driving in circles around after they'd stopped at the church and after they'd dropped by at some convenient store earlier on, and now they're just sitting atop the hood of the car, stargazing while drinking wine and, like —

It's beautiful, iridescent, a complete picturesque, something that's usually taken out of some Nicholas Sparks' novels. Very much cliché yet wonderful.

Harry takes the bottle of wine out of Louis' grasp, to which earns him a little whine from the tinier man himself, and then drinks from it, exhaling right after. He answers, "No, Lou. Sadly... no. Not anymore."

"Oh," Louis says, "that's a bummer."

"Yeah, I suppose so it is," Harry answers with a shrug, "but you know what isn't?" He looks at Louis at this, smiling genuinely, a bit dizzy from drinking so much wine.

"What?" Louis asks, a bit out of breath as he thinks  _fuck, Harry looks so good right now, like this: being tipsy, all flushed red and open-mouthed_. He decides he loves this kind of Harry.

"It's the fact that having to lose the ability of seeing through stuffs, seeing maximum ranges like no other living things and being quite invincible like any other man wants, in return, I am able to be with you. You're all that matters, Lou."

Louis' throat dries, heartbeat racing madly against his chest as he looks at Harry like this — this serious and sincere and flushed and, fuck,  _pretty_. "I, Haz... I..."

Harry smiles at the lack of speech Louis is suffering from. "It's pretty insane, Lou, to be honest. I had it all, see; immortality, capability of flying, having wings, the honor of being just one of the minimum angels who live with Him, everlasting life, perfect life... and yet, Lou—"

"And yet you chose to be with me," Louis finishes for him, "I get it, Haz." He sighs. "The real question is though...do you regret it?"

Harry frowns. "Lou... what?" He asks, sounding offended. But really, he isn't. Just confused because Louis is giving him this look — vulnerability.

"I asked, if you ever regret choosing being with me rather than living the perfect life," Louis murmurs.

"I, yeah, Lou, I heard you the first time," Harry says, sounding frustrated now, "and no, Lou, no. The answer is no. I don't. Not ever."

Louis blushes. He blinks as he stares at Harry, reaching out for the bottle of wine again to take a sip on it. But then Harry is gripping on the neck of the bottle and he's pushing it aside, out of Louis' reach. Louis gives him a pointed look at that.

Which, it makes Harry smirk. In a mischievous way. Shift of topic then. Louis can with this.

"Oh, so you wanna mess with me, huh," Louis scoffs, pretending to be pissed, although he can't help the grin that's threatening to split half his lips.

Harry shakes his head, feigning nonchalance. "I didn't say anything about messing with you, babe."

Louis feels his face heat up at the sound of Harry's slow and low voice calling him 'babe'.

Louis huffs as he looks away, crossing his arms against his chest as though he's given up on reaching the bottle, "Oh, whatever."

Harry chuckles and he nudges Louis' shoulder with his. "Look who's getting biased now," he teases.

Louis keeps his 'pissed face' on, not moving from his 'pissed position'.

Harry shakes his head at this. Stubborn, stubborn child. And then he thinks of something, inquisitive light bulb flicking on. "Come on, Lou," he says hurriedly, urging Louis to stand all of the sudden. Louis' eyes widen at the change of plans as Harry pulls at his arms, making him stand from the hood of the car with him.

"Harry?" Louis asks curiously as he furrows his eyebrows, lost for accurate movements.

"Here," Harry says, dropping the bottle of wine on the grass underneath the tires of the car from where they are, taking both of Louis' hands and placing them at each of his shoulders. "I saw this from back then, when I was on my mission of saving lives. There was this old woman, and an old man, and they were dancing... like this. I want us to do it too." Harry holds Louis by the waists, steadying him.

Giggling, Louis looks up at Harry as he grips his shoulders, mostly grasping on the fabric of his top. "Seriously, Harold?"

"Yes, Louis," Harry answers firmly, very much serious about dancing with Louis at the top of some hill, atop the hood of their car and under the stars. A Right Sap.

Louis sighs as he rests his cheek against Harry's shoulder, just beneath the back of his palm where he's holding Harry, and then closes his eyes, just enjoying the sweet moment.

"This is nice," Louis says after a beat, "just you and I, dancing slowly on the top of my car. Just, this is great."

"Mhmm," Harry murmurs as he tightens his hold on Louis, squeezing, feeling, inhaling Louis' scent and resting the side of his face against Louis' incredibly soft hair.

And then they silence down... just swaying slowly, holding onto each other and humming. Humming softly.

Just then — "I love you, Harry," Louis whispers, "so much. Thank you for choosing me, again."

Harry smiles against Louis' hair, nodding a little bit. "I love you too, Lou... I love you too much. And you're welcome, always."

Inside their room a little later on, Harry lays Louis down gently over their single bed as he kisses every part of him; his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, his mouth, his neck, his throat and just every inch of him, really. Louis clings onto Harry at that, kissing right back, moaning his name and saying  _I love you I love you I love you, please never let me go_.

Harry replies back as much  _I love you_ 's as he can, promising that  _yes, he will not leave Louis no matter what; like, he'd never dare. Not in a million years._

And Louis seems satisfied to hear that, snatching the promise floating in the air along the sparks they're producing and pocketing it for him to keep forever.

Forever.


	17. 0.16 TLC - "The mortal would give up forever to touch him"

**__ **

**_0.16 The Last Chapter || "Always in my heart," he murmured through the wind._ **

**_***_ **

**_***_ **

When Louis wakes up the next day, the first thing he does is smile up at Harry, who already is awake and just watching him sleep, and he thinks  _that's good enough for me_. Harry leans down like it's second nature to them, planting a kiss against Louis' lips, biting at his bottom lip and sucking just a little, licking it wet to ease the startling pain.

"Morning," Harry greets, voice low, groggy from sleep.

"Morning," Louis replies, smiling against their lingering lips.

"Tea?"

"Please, Harold. Thanks."

In the kitchen, Harry boils water from the kettle and Louis sits on the counter while he does that, swaying his legs as they don't reach the ground. Harry hums as he waits for the water to boil, turning around to face Louis, and then flashing him a grin.

"What?" Louis asks, smirking.

Harry shakes his head, still smiling mischievously. "Nothing."

Louis nods, chuckling. "Okay. It's official. You're weird."

"Am I though?" Harry teases.

"Yup," Louis chirps, nodding like a 5-year-old, "and you're cute. I think I'm gonna keep you."

Harry rolls his eyes, although he's still smiling like an idiot.

Louis gasps, pretending to be shocked. (He is though. A little). "And you're rolling your eyes at me now? That's news!"

"How come?" Harry asks, just genuinely curious.

"Well, love, because you barely show emotion, see. Like, when I first met you — you were this pokerfaced kid that prances around. Well, not prances  _prances_ , but. You probably know what I mean. Like, you just don't smile, don't laugh, and don't even blink for a long time. God. You were an angel before Harry. An  _angel_. Which, of course, is very much overwhelming for my part because damn, I'm just a hot-blooded man in his 20's, a boring one too, can I just point out, and like—"

Within a second, Harry's in front of him, slotted between his thighs and legs, leaning his hips against the counter and shushing Louis with his rambling. "I get it, Lou, I get it, baby," he murmurs, stroking Louis' jaw and tracing his fingertips along Louis' stubble. "You were overwhelmed; I do a lot of new things now; emotions and stuff. I get it."

Louis nods slowly, closing his eyes and breathing in. He leans in to Harry's touch like that, loving it. It makes him feel  _him_. "I just... I just really can't believe this is all happening, Haz. All of this... still. It's like, a miracle, you know? This doesn't happen to normal people like me. This only happens in the movies."

Harry chuckles softly. "Well, it did happen, though, so."

Louis opens his eyes and he stares at Harry, their gazes directed to each other. And it's so easy, doing this. They don't say anything anymore after that, because they don't need to. Just listening to each other's heartbeats, simply refusing to look away, is all it takes.

And until the kettle whistles that Louis and Harry break eye-contact, Harry turning back around to the stove and shutting it, taking the kettle by the handle and pouring them both some hot water for each their teacups that already have some tea bags in them.

"Here, babe," Harry says as he lends Louis his tea, "have a sip and see if I'm already qualified as a mortal who can make tea."  _Ha_.

Louis laughs softly, taking the teacup from Harry. "Okay, gimme that. Let me see." Louis takes his first sip. And it makes him break into a grinning hedgehog. Hedgehog? Great, where did that even come from?

"So?" Harry asks, looking quite nervous.

"Brilliant," Louis answers, "you are now qualified as a mortal who can actually make tea." It was a mocking statement, a repeat of what Harry said, but Harry seems proud about having heard that anyway, if him grinning broadly is any indication. He feels rather proud, and Louis' happy about that. Being a supportive boyfriend doesn't take a lot.

***

Their morning goes languidly after their teatime and they don't bother to go out. Well, except for when after they've decided that watching telly in the afternoon is quite bull though, that is, so in the end they still chose to go out. Say it'll be more fun — also, so Louis can show Harry to places only he knows and Harry doesn't at this point. Now that he's an angel, no more.

Louis drives them both at some lake by the outskirts of London and by the time the clock strikes one — meaning the sun has gone out — they're already in just their boxer shorts and nothing more, topless, dipping under the water, playing splash to each other and laughing.

Louis slings both his arms over Harry's shoulders when he gets the chance and Harry leans in and kisses him straight on the mouth, licking stripes and lending air, biting, the two of them dipping underwater. They kiss, share breath underwater, wrapping their arms around each other and closing their eyes to match the moment.

After their little swim, they go over the land, laid sprawled over the grass, eating pizza and drinking Pepsi in cans.

Louis wishes this day won't end. He can totally relive this moment forever.

 ** _4:32 PM ~_**  Harry and Louis stroll along the streets of London, hand in hand, pointing at stuffs behind glasses, giggling to each other and whispering sweet nothings, making other people look over at their direction and scoff. They don't give a damn though. They're in love, having fun and being their goofy selves. No one should really blame them for that.

"Oh, look, Harry! A wishing fountain!" Louis squeals, pointing towards some fountain where other people are tossing coins and gathering about.

"A wishing what?" Harry puzzles, blinking to where Louis is pointing.

Louis rolls his eyes, fondly, as he pulls at Harry's left arm, "Oh, hush, Harold, just come with me."

They both make it to stand in front of the wishing fountain and Louis, already, is grinning widely to himself, feeling excited. They see a lot of coins scattered over the waterbed and Harry thinks  _oh_. A wishing fountain.

"Well?" Louis says after a minute, shoving his hands in his pockets in search of some coins. "Let's make a wish, shall we?"

Harry scratches at the back of his neck. He doesn't know what to wish, he thinks, what with he's already got his wish granted: which is Louis. If it isn't yet obvious...

"Uhm. Okay, sure," Harry agrees anyway.

Louis flips a coin and Harry catches it. Louis grins cheekily at him with that, winking. "Ready?" Louis asks, practically beaming at him. Harry only smiles, but he nods as well after a sec.

Together, they lift their coins in between their fingers and rest it against their pursed lips, their eyes closing as they both make wishes.

Harry wishes to have Louis forever in his life (he doesn't know what else to wish, really) and Louis wishes for Harry's health, for them to be wealthy and for them to never let go, just to forever hold on to each other. As cheesy as that sounds, but...

After making their wishes in their heads, Harry and Louis squeeze each other's hand against theirs and they open their eyes, look to each other and smile. Louis mouths  _I love you_  to Harry, and Harry winks at him. Louis' heart is on his mouth at that kind of sight and, well... they toss their coins over the wishing fountain. Together. At the same time.

"So. What did you wish for then?" Louis asks, turning to Harry with a big smile on his face, eyebrows wiggling in such a suggestive manner Harry almost spills. In the end though, Harry only makes a motion of zipping his mouth shut. Louis just rolls his eyes, fondly of course. Always fondly.

"Where shall we go next?" Harry asks after a while in a lieu of conversation, looking around the place before them.

"I don't know, baby," Louis says slowly as he too looks around. "Perhaps eat? I don't know. I mean, it's almost dark now anyway, and I think it's safe to say it's almost time for dinner, so..."

Harry laughs, taking Louis' hand. "Let's just continue walking if you want. I don't really mind as long as we're together."

Louis rolls his eyes again just because, smiling like a dork. "Cheesy sap," he mumbles, but he lets Harry drag him anyway.

***

_If it hadn't been for the loud noise, Harry would've sworn he'd let himself be the one in Louis' shoes. But it hadn't been that easy. Things with the mortals hadn't been easy, had they?_

_Because as Louis and Harry started walking, things went haywire. And right there and then, people started panicking, people started yelling. There were tears, screams, running, and hearts shattering into thousand pieces:_

"Gun! Everybody duck!" One shouts.

"What," Louis gasps, almost letting go of Harry's hand.

There's screaming everywhere.

"Lou —"

"Oh my god!"

"H-Harry, what's going on?" Louis panics.

"Louis, no!" Harry screams, eyes wide, pulling on Louis' waists.

And then there's gunshot; faster than the wind, it strikes through someone.

_Someone..._

Stupefied, eyes wide, lips going pale, Harry holds on tight on Louis' waists as he pulls him closer, looking on the spot where there's sudden leaking blood.

_He tried, he did. Harry really, really tried, but it was rather too late. It was too fast. Like a lightning, it was. Harry wasn't able to save him; wasn't able to cover him up with the nonexistent angel wings he had that's better than any force field in the entire world._

Shaking, eyes steady wide, Harry tries to crouch down with Louis still in his arms.

And they make it to the ground, people already gathering around them, looking at what the commotion is about — watching the very recent tragedy some robber has done.

Right on Louis' chest where his heart is supposed to be leveling at, Harry notices, knows, has a hole in it that it didn't have just minutes ago, the rims all red, like dark, liquid red and Harry, he was too late to have pulled Louis out of the range of the firing.

"H-Haz," Louis gasps out — chokes out — his eyelids going heavy by the second as he struggles to breathe. "What — what just happened?"

Harry blinks, tears already spilling from his eyes. "Oh, my Louis... Louis," Harry croaks, stroking Louis' face. He doesn't know what to do. He can't heft Louis up, he'll hurt. "Louis. Louis..."

Louis blinks slowly, eyebrows furrowing. He moves a bit, and regrets it almost immediately. "Fuck," he chokes, "I got shot? Fuck... how..."

"There was a robbery," someone says worriedly, one of the people gathered around them.

"Man down! Quick, someone call an ambulance!" One person shouts. Louis can't hear them anymore. Everything is being tuned out, everything is being blurred.

"L-Lou," Harry sobs now, his eyes spilling tears. "You're going to be alright, baby. You're going to be fine."

Louis isn't so sure about that, but... Harry is crying hovered above him, sobbing, and he doesn't know how to respond to that anymore. Plus, his chest is killing him — it hurts. It hurts a whole damn much and Louis thinks okay, he's probably going to die now. He's been shot. What else is in it for him?

He's going to die.

He's going to —

But why now? Why now that for once in his life he's became happy because he and Harry are together now and are almost  _there_ — the whole marriage thing, engagement, parents' blessing — Jay's, and all that. Why now?

How about Cara and Ashton? What is Harry supposed to tell them when everything is settled and he's dead? They might kill Harry too for letting him die like this. No, no, Louis can't let that happen, no...

But. His heart. Air.

Air.

Lack of air.

"Lou, please," Harry cries weakly, sobbing, hiccupping as he holds Louis tightly, "please don't do this to me — to us.  _Please_." He's wailing, voice unfamiliar despite he's practically memorized every sound Harry made.  _Made_. Past tense. Why is he already thinking in past tense? He's still here, isn't he?

Louis looks at Harry, smiling lazily, struggling to breathe now. "Harry, listen to me baby," he whispers, "listen babe."

Harry stops talking and he leans down, closer to Louis, listening, sniffling uncontrollably. "Y-yes, Lou?" He croaks.

"I love you so much, okay? We will... we will meet again, won't we? Like, up there? In the place where you naturally belong. I will wait for you, yeah?" Harry starts sobbing again, shaking his head petulantly, refusing to let Louis just leave him and stop breathing. "Harry, baby, please. Just listen to me, baby. I — I'm almost out of air, you have to let me go. Happily, Harry, please. I don't want you crying when I go."

Harry's breath hitches against his throat. And it's all just a blur now, the people surrounding them completely tuned out and blacked out. Completely. No more of that.

"I don't want you to leave me, Lou... I don't think I can live without you," Harry says, still sobbing, tears still streaming down his rosy cheeks. "I can't live without you."

Louis goes to wipe Harry's tears away, struggling to do so, his chest aching yet again as he moves. He doesn't care about the pain though; he needs Harry to feel him, his touch, his cooling fingertips. Him. Them. Is what matters.

"I love you, Harry, so much," Louis whispers, almost mouthing his words now because of lack of energy. His tiring mouth. Can't articulate. No more.

"I — I love you so much, Louis. So, so much," Harry weakly hisses, cupping Louis' face, his tears landing on Louis' paling cheeks.

Just then, Louis looks up from behind Harry. "Baby, I — I can see them," he manages, blood trickling down from the corner of his mouth as he coughs.

"Who, Louis? Who?" Harry asks in panic, sniffling, tightening his hold on Louis' face.

"Angels," Louis simply answers, smiling lazily, blinking softly.

And yes...there, Louis sees them indeed.

Michael, Niall and Lux; in their signature clothing, Michael and Niall wearing their armors, and Lux wearing nothing but thin layers of white robes, their wings flapping as they meet with Louis, their smiles gentle as they float above Harry who's hovering over Louis.

"No," Harry croaks, shaking his head. He keeps shaking his head, hands cupping Louis' face shaking too. "No, no, Lou, no," he cries, pleads. "Please, don't look at them, no. Don't let them take you away from me, please Lou."

"I didn't know that this is how it feels like to die," Louis mutters no matter if he's struggling with it, still smiling. "Hey, Haz," he says, "smile for me, please? Before I go, I want to see that smile — that beautiful smile."

Harry doesn't want to, hasn't the muscle and strength to, has  _no reason_  to, and yet he does. He does because Louis says so. He does because Louis wants him to. He does because he'll do everything for his love.

Louis.

Harry knows there's nothing he can do about it anymore — this is reality. Louis is a mortal and mortals happen to die. Maybe this was  _His_ plan after all. Harry doesn't want to think it, but fate is fate —  _His_ decision,  _His_  rules,  _His_  sons. Who is Harry to fight that? Nothing. He's nothing. Just an ash.

"There you go," Louis whispers, managing a small smile. "You're so perfect."

"So are you, Lou," Harry whispers, smiling sadly, still cupping Louis' face. "So are you..."

And Louis finally lets death take over him, lets Lux and the others take his soul and bring it someplace where he can continue his second life and look after Harry from where he is, while Harry lives on earth and continue with his life as a mortal.

***

Harry sits alone at their flat, in the couch where he and Louis used to cuddle, his hair a complete mess, his shirt a bit smelly because of being so much worn (for almost four days straight now — a week after Louis' funeral), his eyes encircled with eye bags and his nose as red as strawberries in summertime.

Harry hasn't eaten for days, hasn't talked to anyone even at Louis' funeral, even when Louis' mum, Jay, and Louis' sisters, Charlotte, Felicite, the twins, Phoebe and Daisy came, (not even Cara nor Ashton had made him speak a word or two), and hasn't slept right without having nightmares and recalls of the night when Louis had died in his arms.

Harry is a mess. Pretty much a total mess. And he isn't doing anything about it. He just wants to sulk...forever maybe, he doesn't know. Doesn't want to know — he just really doesn't care about anything anymore at this point. He wants to vanish.

If only he can do evanescence, but. That's quite impossible now.

Harry stares into nothingness, the entire flat filled with silence, the entire place dark and dead. Harry wants to die.

"Harry, my brother," someone suddenly speaks, making Harry grunt in response.

"Niall," he breathes out lowly — knows already that it is in fact his angel friend — his own voice sounding a bit unfamiliar to him all the sudden, now that he hasn't heard it himself for a while.

"So," Niall starts, walking towards Harry by the couch, just stopping merely some inches away from the coffee table. "About Lou—"

"Don't," Harry hisses as he grits his teeth, his head still down, gaze still looking into nothingness. He hasn't the strength to look at his old friend yet. He hasn't the urge. It's just... so fucking difficult. "Don't you dare say his name, Niall. Just — what do you want? Why are you here, you traitor?" He snaps, anger firm in his tone.

"Traitor," Niall repeats, his voice soft, a bit sounding pained if Harry says so himself. Niall doesn't feel pain though, so how come? Harry can care less, fuck. Just fuck everything at this point.

"Yes, you're a traitor. I bet you knew all this time that this was supposed to happen. And you didn't even warn me one bit. Not a hint, none," Harry mutters darkly, his voice slow, indented and low.

Niall sighs. "Harry, my brother —," Harry cringes at the brother part. Niall isn't his brother no more. He's a traitor, isn't he? "— I didn't know. No one knew. No one. Do you remember that one time when Saint Lou and Saint Tom had Lux? Remember when they don't know what Lux would be? The moment I saw Lux, I already know that something undefined will happen — will occur — but to whom? I haven't an iota, but then. You — you disappeared. The next thing I know you were here. In this place. In this land. And then when you met... him. Suddenly, the puzzle had clicked into my head that something will happen. If it's tragic or good, I didn't know. I didn't know a thing. No one knew, I promise you. Not Michael, not me, not Lux. Louis — I mean, him. He — he was the next in line. Lux... Lux had been entitled to fetch his soul, Harry. Lux had been born and molded and made for Louis. For him. The part where you fell in love with him, it wasn't supposed to happen, Harry. But I suppose  _He_ doesn't, never wanted to fight when it came to love — desire — admiration.

"He just granted your wish, my brother, your need to be with this mortal, so you can be happy... even if it's just for a short while. But Harry, you know how it is up there — no matter what happens, when it's the person's time, it's the person's time. Not even love can escape death. Immortality can be replaced by mortality because of love, but not death. Time. Louis' time had ran out and that's what's happened."

By the time Niall finishes his explanation, Harry's in tears. He can't believe nothing has clicked inside his head — he can't believe all of this is happening. Harry doesn't know whether to hold grudge, forlorn or memories. He doesn't know anymore.

"Niall, I —," Harry tries, but soon fails. He just continues to cry, covering his face with both his large palms, sobbing against it.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Niall mumbles sadly, putting a hand over Harry's shoulder. "I should... I should go now."

Harry doesn't nod, doesn't dismiss him. Niall fades away anyway.

And there sits Harry, sobbing weakly, his shoulders shaking in agony, fat, warm tears spilling, streaming down his cheeks like an infinite falls.

***

**December 23rd, 11:57 PM**

Harry stands in front of the same lake from where he and Louis last went to that one summer, in the late afternoon, before Louis had died in the city of London.

He breathes in the scent of the nature surrounding him, closing his eyes and humming.

"Louis," he mutters underneath his breath, his feet edging by the grass dividing the land and the water. "I know you can hear me, darling — I know you're watching too," he starts, inhaling and exhaling, "I just want you to know, baby... that I'm happy now. Well, I'm — I'm still trying to be, technically. Uhm. I'm working now; I have a job, in a veterinary clinic. What are the odds, right? The irony." Harry chuckles to himself, rubbing his nose and snout. "Uhm, I — well, I'm earning money now and I... I shower every day now as well, unlike the last few months that I was mourning at my massive, massive lost. The love of my life. You." He sighs, steadying himself by the edge of the grass.

"Well, Louis. I know you would ask, so I'm going to tell you; our friends, well, best friends rather, Cara and Ashton. They have figured out what they want now, have figured out themselves, who to love. Isn't that great? Ashton snooped for some time, but he — he's finally confessed his attraction to Luke. And same goes for Cara with... this girl named Kendall? Yeah." Letting out a shuddering breath, Harry smiles up at the stars above. "They still haven't moved on from you either, you know? Like... myself. I don't think we could, like, ever, anyway... You'll always be in our hearts, our minds. The memory of you, Lou, will always stay in our memories and souls. You will always be here —," Harry point at his chest where his heart is "— and no one can ever replace you. I can just die single, I do  _not_ care. No one can ever love me like you do; like you did. I will never love anyone the way I love you. Forever. We're forever." Harry's taking taking off his boots now.

"Hmm, what else? Oh, right. I got a couple of tattoos. Nautical ones, because I remembered you searching for them on your laptop thing. My friends, Zayn and Liam. I've met them — like, personally. Great lads, those two, Louis. They helped me get the tattoos. Anchor tied with a rope, ship with its compass, dagger stabbed through a rose. They symbolize you and I, our love. I know they're quite plenty, but for some reason, I craved the pain. I thought of you at each tattoo session."

Smiling, Harry proceeds. "Back to the lads, they said they know you and that you were lovely. And... I wasn't so shocked when Liam admitted he fancied you the moment he saw you. When you sold your vet to him, he said." Harry laughs softly, eyes closing as he recalls in his head that exact moment. "I didn't... I didn't even get jealous hearing his tale. I mean, who wouldn't fancy you at first sight anyway, right? You're adorable, Lou. Utter perfection. Every human being who'd ever lay an eye on you will always adore you." Harry sighs again, smiling a little bit, feeling better with his self as he goes. "Well, I also met your mother, by the way; Jay is her name. It's... it's a nice name. She's really lovely, Lou. Just like you. And your sisters, gosh. They're all dollies. Phoebe and Daisy are both my favorites. You don't have to tell Fizzy and Lottie that though or they'll kill me." Harry laughs half-heartedly.

He hums. "I wonder — I wonder how you're doing now, baby... I wonder if you're one of them now. The Fallen. I wonder if you're having fun being there while watching me live my boring life down here." Harry chuckles. "Well, it's your choice anyway, Lou. Your choice whether you want to watch me live, or that you would rather save lives countries by countries. I'm sure they're letting you do what you want — besides you're Louis; you're the boss, like. You do what you want. I just hope that what you want... like, still has something to do with me. With looking after me."

Harry looks down on his bare feet, his toes digging on the muddy ground, a tear landing on his foot. He sniffs quietly. "Louis... I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts. It hurts every day."

And Harry starts to break. He can't help it. Harry shakes as he cries, kneeling on the ground, hugging himself as he sobs. "Lou... Louis... I miss you so much. I just — every time —  _every time_ I'd heal a dog at work, I would go back to the time when we first met. Every time I'd make myself tea, I would go back to the time when I first made you one; when you told me I'm officially qualified as a mortal who can make teas. Every time I... fuck, every time I sleep at night, you'd all I think about. Every time I'd watch some telly alone, a football match, I would go back to the time when we first battled through eating pizza. Every time — I —"

Harry cries. "Take me, Louis — t-take me! Take me — w-with you!" And he isn't talking coherently any longer after that reckless abandonment. Just strangled sobs and frantic breathing, blurry visions, wet, quivering lips.

After quite some time, as December 24th arrives, Harry stands up again, dusting his jeans and wiping at his eyes. He sniffles, louder this time.

"Listen, Lou... I love you so much. Always remember that, yeah? And I... I sure do hope we meet again. Happy birthday, love."

And Harry dives in the water, finally he does, eyes closed, breath held.

Underwater, he recalls the moment where Louis was kissing him, sharing air with him... and he thinks, hopes... that someday, eventually he can live happily on his own even without Louis. Even without the love of his life, even only with the memories he'd left Harry to remember alone. As long as he breathes.

**_fin~_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***
> 
> Songs you may listen to in remembrance of this story.
> 
> In The Moment We're Ten Feet Tall official mix:
> 
> 1\. Wings - Birdy
> 
> 2\. We Never Change - Coldplay
> 
> 3\. Missing - The Xx
> 
> 4\. Oblivion - Bastille
> 
> 5\. Strange Birds - Birdy
> 
> 6\. You And I - One Direction
> 
> 7\. The Death of You and Me - Noel Gallagher
> 
> 8\. Hole In My Hand - Benjamin Francis Leftwich
> 
> 9\. Never Say Never - The Fray
> 
> 10\. Alive - Gabrielle Aplin
> 
> 11\. Your Body Is A Wonderland - John Mayer
> 
> 12\. When You're Gone - Avril Lavigne
> 
> 13\. Perth - Bon Iver
> 
> 14\. Give Me Love - Ed Sheeran
> 
> you may listen to the playlist "to forever hold onto you" under the user octobertwo on 8tracks
> 
> here is the link (just in case): https://8tracks.com/octobertwo/to-forever-hold-onto-you#
> 
> ***
> 
> last a|n: Do me a favor, refrain yourself from throwing hurtful words... I love you. Trick is, tell your friend to read this too, share the pain with you. And then read something lighthearted and funny, or perhaps something smutty and kinky, you name it. Just always remember, I love y'all no matter what. Mwah!

**Author's Note:**

> tell me something about the fic :)
> 
> thanks so much for reading!


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